


Compliance and Sedition: Fenris

by TCRegan



Series: Compliance and Sedition [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Anders gets on the boat to flee Ferelden and is sold into slavery instead. In Tevinter, he is purchased by Danarius and forms an unlikely relationship with Danarius's bodyguard, Fenris.</p><p>Several years after finally escaping Danarius, Fenris is forced into dealing with the consequences of fleeing his former master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Running, twigs snapping. Go faster. They're after you. They're after you. They're coming for you. You've failed him and now they're going to put you in chains. Run, little wolf!_

_Lungs screaming for air as bare feet slap against the ground. Stumbling, tripping over something, hands scraping against the dirt and rocks. Flipping over, scrambling back quickly, the sound of the tiger coming ever closer, ever closer…_

Fenris's eyes snapped open. He felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, sheets twisted around his lower half, cold sweat on his skin. The warm, musty air blew in from the opened window as the last vestiges of the nightmare fled his conscious mind faster than he'd tried to outrun his past. Sitting up, he dragged a hand down his face, wiping away the sweat, trying to catch his breath. The mansion was quiet except for the sounds of crickets and a heavier scurrying noise in the walls. Even in Hightown, the rats were prevalent and not always metaphorical.

He pulled the sheets from his legs and reached down for his discarded smallclothes, pulling them up over his hips as he plodded barefoot to the table in the middle of the room. Six years of living in the dilapidated mansion and he hadn't bothered to move from this one spot. And why should he? It had a bed, a table and chairs and a couch. Living his entire life as a slave, he'd never had more than a small space for his own. At least until _he_ came.

Wincing at the broken tiles under his foot, he brushed them away before reaching for the wine bottle. It was half empty. He'd gotten in late, another mission with Hawke, and fell asleep before he could finish it. Aggregio Pavali. It poured dark and red into the dusty glass and Fenris drank deeply from it, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist before moving to the window. He liked the taste because even though the wine was a remnant of his past, it didn't raise up any unpleasant memories. Memories of Danarius, of Hadriana, of a blond man with an irritating smirk that spoke broken promises.

The nightmares had all but faded in the first few weeks he arrived in Kirkwall. He wasn't sure why he even picked this pustule of a city. Danarius had a mansion here, which was his only tie to it. Foolish, really, to choose a place where Danarius could find him. Perhaps he wanted to be found. It was a terrifying thought that clung to his brain, something that made him question every move he made. It was why the wine was so welcome. Forgoing the glass, he tipped the bottle back, letting the sweet liquid play over his tongue as he finished in three large swallows. It wasn't enough, and there was only one more bottle left.

He had half a mind to dress and go to the Hanged Man. Even at this hour someone would be tending bar. A place like that never closed and he still had coin enough from the jobs he took with Hawke. Hawke. Thinking about the mage reminded him of… No. He couldn't even bring himself to think of the name without a myriad of emotion to accompany it. Pain. Anger. Regret. He turned the bottle over his hand, thumb brushing against the faded and cracked label. Yellowed letters flaked to the floor, and he shoved the window open further before flinging the bottle out. It crashed against the pavement below.

With a frustrated cry, he ran his fingers back through his hair, turning away from the window and started to pace. Why now? Why think of him now? Hadriana had come for him three years ago, dredging up all sorts of unpleasant memories. The possibility of being dragged back to Tevinter was there, always hanging like a guillotine over his head. But Hawke, a righteous man who fought for mage rights, against slavery, for freedom, refused to let them take Fenris. He'd helped Fenris track Hadriana, approved of it when he killed her. Tried to lend an ear and rebuffed him sharply when Fenris blamed magic.

After all, wasn't magic the cause of all this? But here he was, keeping company with a man who reminded him of…

 _He_ was the reason Fenris chose Kirkwall. He knew that. It had nothing to do with wanting to return to his life as a slave, but perhaps a part of him did want to get caught. If only to see if he was right about that day. The day he turned and ran when he realized he'd failed. When he realized things had gone horribly, horribly wrong. But there was more to it than that. Kirkwall was where they were going to go after they escaped. And while he wasn't dead set on fighting for mage rights, he would have seen to it that _he_ was safely out of Danarius's clutches.

"Fenris?"

Fenris looked up suddenly. Silhouetted in the half-opened door stood Hawke, though he wasn't looking in.

"I am awake," Fenris said, pulling his leggings from the back of the chair. He yanked them on, turning to light a fire as the door creaked open.

"Well I knew that. I was out walking when I saw you defenestrate the bottle. Tired of painting the walls?"

The fire sparked to light and Fenris searched the shelves. Another dusty bottle. Not the Aggregio, but some Antivan spirit. Good enough. He pulled the cork from it and sat heavily in an armchair, glaring at a broken tile. He nudged it with his foot, watching the blue stone chip leave a trail of white debris behind.

"I'll take that as a yes," Hawke said, and walked in. He settled himself in the chair next to Fenris, taking the proffered bottle and sipping before handing it back. "You want to talk?"

Fenris scowled. "No."

"So we'll sit in silence, I guess."

"Fine." Fenris took a long swallow, finally feeling a very slight tingling in his brain. He'd barely eaten that day and hoped this bottle would be enough to push him into drunkenness enough to pass out for the rest of the night.

"Was it another nightmare?"

Damn the man. Fenris muttered a curse in Tevene, partly because he knew it would annoy Hawke and partly to make himself feel better. "Fine. Yes."

"You've been having them more lately."

Fenris shrugged. "You don't need to worry about my sleeping habits," he said, passing the bottle back, looking at Hawke. "Besides, it's a bit hypocritical considering you don't sleep."

"I have nightmares too," Hawke said, taking a swig.

"And what are yours about?"

"Nuh-uh," Hawke said, pointing the bottle at him. "I don't talk unless you do."

Fenris leaned up and snatched the wine back. "I didn't want to know anyway."

"I also often ask questions I don't want to know the answers to," Hawke said with a smirk.

The mage's reflexes were too good. He ducked fast as Fenris chucked the bottle at his head. It crashed against the floor, contents spilling against the stone. "Infernal man! Let me be if you're just going to take the piss out of me." He hadn't wanted company and now the only alcohol left was several floors down in the cellar.

"But it's ever so much fun to poke at you."

Fenris swore again in Tevene, including a colorful reference to Hawke's parentage.

"One day I'm going find a translation book for all the lovely things you say to me." He leaned back before turning to look at Fenris seriously. "They've gotten worse since Hadriana. Was it about what she said to you? About your sister?"

"I have no memory of my sister," Fenris said, peering into the fire. "I remember the brands being burnt into my skin. And nothing before that. If she exists and she's not just a ploy invented by Hadriana, she left before I received them."

"So what was it about if not her?"

Fenris drew his legs up underneath him, curling in an armchair made for a lord much larger than himself. Hawke, tall and broad as he was, had no such space. Fenris picked at a small hole in the arm, twisting the threads between his fingers. "My past."

"But not Hadriana."

"She's simply a small part of it."

"Danarius then?"

Fenris winced at his older master's name. "A popular source of many of my nightmares of late, but not this time."

Hawke sighed. "I wish you would tell me."

Fenris pulled back on the fabric, tearing it a bit, yanking at the stuffing inside. "Why? What good would it do to know every sordid detail of my life in the Imperium? Do you want me to tell you about how I was beaten bloody?"

"No-" Hawke started.

"About how Danarius liked to bleed little boys dry at parties to fuel his power? How he traded slaves like they were collectibles instead of people?"

"Fenris-"

"Or did you want me to tell you about the time he summoned a demon to rape me because of something stupid another slave did?"

Hawke fell silent, and Fenris no longer felt the weight of the man's gaze upon him. 

"Sometimes… It does help to talk," Hawke said eventually. "After Bethany died, I had nightmares. The ogre lifting her up like she was a rag doll. It… I talked."

"And to whom did you speak, that it helped you so much?" Fenris snapped.

Hawke let out a shaky laugh. "The Maker."

Fenris scoffed. "And I'm sure He answered you."

"Not at all. I'm not even sure He exists, truthfully. But I didn't have anyone else. Mother refused to talk about it and blamed me for her death. Carver wanted to use her death against me. And my uncle had his head so far up his ass he couldn't see straight on a good day. So I… Prayed isn't the right word. Meditated, maybe. And it helped."

Fenris considered this. Hawke wasn't a friend exactly. Then again, what did that word mean? The other mage had been a friend, or so he thought. It wasn't a word that had good connotations. Before him, there was no one. He'd been on his own. It certainly didn't help that Hawke reminded Fenris of _him_. And why did Fenris keep fighting alongside Hawke? Why did he keep helping mages? It certainly wasn't because he felt that mages deserved freedom. Give them too much and they'd become magisters. Had he been just a little more drunk, he would have believed it was some misguided sense of justice. Following through for his lost friend to make up for the broken promises.

"I don't think he's dead," Fenris said finally.

"Danarius?"

"No. I know he still lives. That man is like a cockroach."

"Who then?"

"There was another… mage," Fenris said, keeping his eyes on the fire. He dug his finger into the hole in the upholstery, nail scratching against the wood. "Who came into Danarius's house. In Alam. Before the attack."

"The Qunari. You mentioned it once."

Fenris nodded. "Danarius called him Bellales – beautiful bird. Or a loose translation thereof. But he called himself Anders." Fenris grimaced, looking away from the fire, down at the arm of the chair. "I suppose I'll never know his real name. He came from the Circle in Ferelden and got caught by slavers that time instead of Templars. Danarius bought him."

"He was a slave? A mage?" Hawke asked, sounding surprised.

"The magisters do not hesitate to collar their own. But he was different. He wasn't like the others. Not like the other slaves, not like the other mages." Fenris closed his eyes, remembering his friend's laugh, warm healing hands against his chest as he patched Fenris's wounds. Hot kisses on a cold night. How easy it was sometimes to just _be_ with him. A mage. A mage who tried to fight against the pull of the darkness. Who failed him. Whom Fenris had failed. "I made him a promise and I broke it."

"What promise?"

Fenris sighed, turning to look at him finally. "You remember Hadriana. What she was."

"You called her a social climber. I remember your… choice words."

"Anders never wanted to be a magister like she did. He never even wanted apprenticeship. The idea terrified him. You… remind me of him a bit. Passionate about mage rights, but denying the Magisterium with every breath. And he appeared to have the willpower to make it happen. A land where mages were free, but not magisters. Danarius tried to make him his apprentice and he declined once. Because of that…"

Hawke waited, but Fenris couldn't continue. The sight of Anders' abused body, covered in sweat and blood and ejaculate, lying unconscious on a table as Danarius tutted. Fenris carrying him to their room, cleaning him carefully before putting him to bed. Worrying that Anders wouldn't wake up. The relief when he did.

"Danarius went too far," Fenris said finally. "Depraved, even for him. And maybe I felt responsible. Whatever it was, I agreed to help Anders escape. He promised… he promised me he'd take me with him. We were to leave Tevinter together."

"What happened?"

"The Qunari attacked."

"You never mentioned Anders when you talked about that night."

Fenris flinched as if the name was a slap. It was hard enough to hear it from his own mouth. "He was with us then. I told you how Danarius escaped the island. How I nearly died, about the Fog Warriors."

Hawke nodded. "I remember."

"Anders was on the boat as well. Danarius declared him an apprentice and removed his cuffs. That moment, I still remember it clearly." Fenris slowly stretched his hand toward the fire, feeling the heat on his palm, while his memory supplied him with a vision of Anders reaching for him, screaming for him. The frantic frenzy of that night that changed everything between them. "I didn't see him for four months," he concluded, dropping his hand.

"The time you spent with the Fog Warriors. You never heard from him?"

"Mm." Fenris had fond memories of the Fog Warriors, but thinking about them brought him the same pain. There was nothing in his past he could claim as pleasant, and the future was looking just as bleak.

"What happened during that time? With him?" Hawke asked. "Did you find out?"

"I expect Danarius took him to Minrathous. Beyond that, I cannot truly say what happened. When next I saw him, he was… different. Perhaps Danarius finally got to him. He said…"

_"Once I complete my apprenticeship, you'll be mine."_

Fenris let out a shaking breath. "He changed."

"What did he say?" Hawke prompted.

Fenris shifted uncomfortably in the chair, pulling a knee to his chest while his other leg dangled, toes brushing the floor. "He… wanted to make me his slave."

Hawke swore quietly. "But… that was Danarius's influence, right?"

"I can't be sure," Fenris said, shrugging. "He was against the idea of it, the entire Imperium. The way he spoke, once he liberated mages in Thedas, he was going to return to Tevinter and free all the slaves. I was foolish to believe it."

"You had hope. There's nothing wrong with that."

Fenris scowled. "What's the point? When all of it's just going to fall apart? When people break their promises as easily as they make them?"

"Not everything turns to shit," Hawke offered. "Things get better."

Fenris let out a mirthless laugh. "Spare me the, 'everything happens for a reason' speech. I hear it enough from Sebastian."

"All I'm saying is that it's not too late to fix things. To find out why he said that. You _can_ find him again if you wanted to. I'll help."

"You're talking about retrieving him from Tevinter? You want to march on Minrathous single-handedly so I can do what exactly? Apologize? Demand an apology? Look for closure?" His voice rose with every question, irritation rising with it.

"When you put it like that-"

"What are you suggesting then?" Fenris snapped.

Hawke shrugged. "Just to send a letter. Varric's got people who know how to find other people. We don't mind helping."

"Your assumptions regarding my taking your charity aside, what if he's still in Danarius's employ? You don't know him, Hawke, you didn't see him that night. How eager he was to get me back to Danarius. To put me in chains. _His_ chains. And even if he's no longer with him, who's to say he wouldn't tell Danarius just to gain favor? And when Danarius comes with an army to bring me back, then what? I'm an expensive slave, Hawke. It would take a lot of coin to appease Danarius. That, or let him flay me for the markings since he appears to want them more than he wants me."

"Then we kill him."

"Oh, brilliant plan," Fenris said, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Two powerful magisters backed by an army of trained Tevinter soldiers and mercenaries. Yes, I'm going to let you throw yourself upon the pyre for my sake. Are you that eager to die?"

"Well I am getting kind of tired of the run around from Meredith."

"It's. Not. Funny."

"No, it's not," Hawke said, somewhat apologetically. "I'm sorry. But there's a chance that Danarius will come for you regardless, right?"

Fenris grunted an assent.

"So if he does, we'll be ready. And maybe Anders will be with him. And if he is, you can confront him. And then we can kill him."

Fenris's head snapped up, fixing Hawke with a glare. "You will not touch him."

Hawke spread his hands innocently. "It'll be your call, Fenris. I didn't get in your way with Hadriana, I sure won't step in here. But if this mage was as opposed to being a magister as you say, he might not be with Danarius willingly."

"You'd give him the benefit of the doubt without knowing him. I understand you have a soft spot for mages, Hawke, but I've also seen you cut down the corrupt ones without a second thought. Why so much empathy for a man you've never met?"

Hawke stood, stretching. "Because of the way you look when you talk about him."

Fenris was stunned by the response that he didn't realize Hawke was already out the door. "What?" He stood, hurrying into the hall, watching as Hawke walked down the stairs. "Hawke!"

Hawke turned, walking backwards now toward the foyer, an annoying, irritating smirk that reminded him of Anders plastered on his face. "If I didn't know you any better, Fenris, honestly? I'd say that you were in love with this guy." He saluted, turned, and walked out.

Fenris gripped the railing, hearing the front door open and shut, and wished he had another bottle of wine to throw at Hawke's stupid face.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris hesitated, then pushed open the door of the chantry. Three weeks now he'd been coming to listen to the Chant for midweek and weekend service. He always dressed simply, wore a cloak and hood. The markings still showed, but it was less conspicuous than suiting up in his armor. People were less inclined to stare at an elf who kept his head down, who sought solitude and didn't make a spectacle. He climbed the long staircase to sit in the top pews, in the back, taking his regular seat at the end. In front of him, tucked into a shelf was the Chant of Light. He had taken one and it was sitting in his mansion. And while his reading was improving, the phrasing of the words often confused him. So instead he'd simply taken to getting drunk and staring at it morosely as if it mocked him.

Tonight the service was a bit full, and Fenris tried to ignore them. A little girl three pews in front of him turned full in her seat to stare. He stared back. Her hair hung in fat curls around her cherubic face, cheeks pink. She was all blonde haired and blue eyes, dressed in a fancy silk dress and ribbons to match. She grinned at him and waved. Fenris frowned, but raised a hand. Her mother scolded her quietly, turning to glare at Fenris, as if he'd forced the girl to stare. He lowered his head, hands in his lap as he listened to the sermon.

Sebastian Vael had a very distinct accent that was quiet pleasant to listen to when it wasn't spouting sanctimonious crap. The Chant seemed almost like a song, and Fenris remembered that it had been at one point, sung in the chantries. Sebastian told him that as well. He was a deeply religious man, one who seemed so sure of himself. Fenris had only ever seen that from those who joined the Qun. Even when his resolve faltered, he returned always to the Maker.

Fenris looked up, eyes trailing the large bronze effigy of Andraste. It always surprised him to see her relief everywhere, especially here in Kirkwall. An ancient slave city, it had its share of Tevinter architecture. But after the Imperium was forced back and it became a free city, Fenris supposed the Orlesians had wasted no time implementing their version of history over top of it. It was a layer of fairytales to cover up the sordid history of Kirkwall. But the Gallows… there were no paintings of Andraste, no statues to commemorate her freeing the slaves. It reminded him of Tevinter, where slaves were reminded of their rightful place at their master's feet until they died.

He noticed that while Andraste featured prominently and statues of the Maker were in no short supply, there wasn't even a bust of Shartan in the chantry, not even graffiti on the walls in his image. It was as if the elf merely didn't exist. He'd heard of him before Hawke gifted him the book, but it wasn't exactly a tale the magisters told their slaves, especially the elven ones. And not being able to read (which Fenris admitted to Hawke – a mistake that clearly showed itself when the man offered to help him learn) made it difficult to learn more. But he did begrudgingly accept the help and soon took pleasure in both reading and writing. His letters still slanted and sometimes he reversed them or wrote them backwards, but Hawke was patient and never made fun of him for that or his difficulties with the thicker tomes.

The sermon ended and people began filing out. The girl waved goodbye at him, and he returned it, her mother yanking her along. He waited as he often did after the service, but didn't descend the stairs. There would be more worshipers down there, wanting to speak with Sebastian about the subject or to thank him for his service. He was one of the most dedicated Brothers the Chantry had, and Fenris knew that not more than a few women in Kirkwall found that frustrating. But Sebastian had taken Andraste for his bride. It was welcoming for Fenris, who spent so much time around Hawke and Isabela and Varric. The trio could quickly lose focus on their task, conversation veering into a territory Fenris wasn't quite comfortable enough yet to follow.

"I thought I'd find you up here," came the lilting brogue.

Fenris shrugged a bit as Sebastian climbed the staircase. He was out of his white armor and dressed in simple Chantry robes. The pink color clashed with his tan complexion, but he seemed completely comfortable as he sat in the pew in front of Fenris, turning to look at him and smiled.

"I usually can be found here in the evenings."

"And yet you never come to sit where I can see you."

"I didn't realize you required a visual confirmation of my presence."

Sebastian laughed, and Fenris found himself relaxing. "Not at all, my friend. I'm just glad you're here."

"Why?" Fenris asked without rancor.

He often did wonder why people were pleased to see him. More often than not, Kirkwallers would shun him, or run away, hide their children the way that woman had her daughter. As if he was going to attack or eat them. Hawke wasn't the first to comment on his markings, but he was the first to sympathize when Fenris told the story. And while he first assumed Hawke merely kept him around for his abilities, the mage had an annoying habit of showing up either in the middle of the night to chat, or just as night was falling to drag him down to the Hanged Man.

"Even a soul completely at peace would still find comfort in the Maker's house. It's refreshing to be in a place where you can sit without fear, without worry."

"Is that why you're here so often?"

Sebastian chuckled. "I do keep a room here, you know. It's my home as much as it is any man's."

"I… have been meaning to speak with you," Fenris said hesitantly.

"Of course. Whatever you'd like to talk about."

It was another reason that Fenris liked Sebastian. When Hawke said it was good to talk to someone, Fenris considered doing what he suggested. But talking to the Maker, praying or meditating or whatever seemed stupid to him. He sat in his bed – kneeling by it felt too childish – and thought about his past. After ten minutes of painful recollection, he felt worse, and drank himself to a stupor just to forget it.

"It's about… Tevinter."

Sebastian nodded. "You don't talk about it much."

"It's not a place I remember fondly."

"I admit I know little about it. In my youth I was concerned with material things, temptations of the flesh, and didn't study the history as I should have. What would you like to talk about?"

Fenris looked down, hands gripping the edge of the seat, the wood slick and polished under his fingertips. "Does the Maker forgive people when they break a promise?"

Sebastian shifted a bit. "I expect He would, given the circumstances. It's not the same as a lie, and even in dire situations, the Maker understands that some lies are forgivable. Did you break a promise, Fenris?" he asked gently. "To someone in Tevinter?"

Fenris hated how sensible Sebastian could be. But he welcomed it, too. Instead of answering, he simply nodded.

"I'm sure the Maker would understand. You were a slave and held under duress. Any promises that you made would be difficult to keep without angering your master. As long as you tried to keep it, I'm sure He knows you did your best."

"But I don't believe I did," Fenris said, squirming a bit in his seat. It was harder to feel like the Maker was some made up story while seated in His house. He suddenly found himself wishing he'd never come to the service.

"Would you like to talk about that?"

Fenris thought about it. Would it make him feel better? He hadn't even told Hawke when pressed. He only told him part of the story, never revealing the promise that he'd made to Anders. "I had a… I don't know what to call him."

"A friend?"

Fenris shook his head. "Companion. Fellow slave."

"All right."

"He was a mage. Danarius wanted to make him his apprentice. But this mage, he was different."

Sebastian reached over the back of his pew, touching Fenris's shoulder. Fenris realized he'd been rocking forward and back in his nervousness. The warmth of Sebastian's hand stilled him, took away some of the anxiety, and he stared at his chin, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"The power of the magisters truly frightened him. Sickened him, even. He begged me to help him."

"Help him how?"

Fenris dug his nails into the wooden pew. "To not let him fall to that. To help keep him safe from blood magic. To avoid the demons. The power that Danarius could give him."

"It is an admirable quality in a mage," Sebastian said. "Many don't understand how dangerous that power can be if left unchecked. It sounds like your friend was quite aware. Did he grow up in Tevinter?"

Fenris shook his head. "He came from Ferelden. From the Circle."

"How did he come to be in Tevinter?"

"He was coming here, to Kirkwall, during the Blight. He never made it. The refugees were sold to slavers."

Sebastian made a low sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. "The Fereldan Circle had its problems with abominations. Your friend was lucky to make it out. I expect he was coming to Kirkwall to join the Circle as it was closest?"

Fenris didn't want to lie to Sebastian, so he held his tongue. He doubted that Sebastian's acknowledgment of Anders' bravery in not wanting to become a magister and use blood magic would extend to the mage's anti-Chantry and anti-Circle views.

"I suppose that's irrelevant," Sebastian said, sensing his hesitation. "What happened?"

"I promised him. And I failed."

"How did you fail, Fenris?" Sebastian asked, squeezing his shoulder.

Fenris closed his eyes, Anders' desperate shouts ringing in his ears. "We were separated the night the Qunari attacked." He hated reliving that night. Hated that he remembered it so vividly though it was years ago. It should be a distant speck in a long buried memory but there it was. Anders reaching down from the boat, trying to grab him as Danarius pulled him away. "And I didn't see him for months after."

"How were you separated?"

Fenris looked up at him, hood slipping from his head as he did so. "They didn't have room for slaves on the ships. Danarius proclaimed him an apprentice but I was left behind."

"They left you all behind to die?" Sebastian asked, and Fenris hated the pity and surprise in his tone.

"Yes. Slaves are replaceable."

"Every soul is equal in the eyes of the Maker."

"Well it's too bad the magisters don't have His sense of equality," Fenris snapped. He regretted it at once, but Sebastian didn't rebuke him the way Hawke would have. He expected a sharp retort or even an evasive joke and received neither.

"Unfortunately the Imperial Chantry's views aren't quite the same," Sebastian agreed sadly. "You had no choice but to stay. I don't believe the Maker would see that as a broken promise, and while I can't speak for your friend, it sounds like he understood this as well."

"But there's more. He came for me. Him and Danarius. They looked for me and they finally found me. I… was willing to go back."

"Back into slavery?"

Fenris nodded. "I thought that was it. That I would leave the companions I'd found. But I had him. We were going to escape together. Being a slave with him was… it wasn't terrible. He made things bearable."

"I see."

"See what?" Fenris asked, hoping Sebastian wouldn't draw the same conclusion Hawke had the other night.

"In terrible situations, we cling to whatever brings us happiness and joy. For some people it's material possessions. For others it's faith. For you I expect that it was him. An example of uncorrupted magic amidst the very worse that a mage can become."

Fenris wondered if Sebastian would agree if he knew Anders had harbored a Fade spirit in his soul. But he wasn't going to reveal that. He didn't think he could bear it if Sebastian judged him. Why Sebastian's opinion of Anders mattered to him, he didn't know. Perhaps he thought he just wanted to remember the good parts, stained as they were with broken promises. With a proclamation of more chains. 

"Danarius ordered me to kill the warriors I was with. So I did."

That same sympathetic noise. "A murder committed under duress is the sin of the one who ordered it, not the one whose hands carried out the deeds. The Maker understands this, and would not condemn you for it."

Fenris hadn't even thought of that. How blackened was his soul? Were all the murders he committed a condemnation? It was something to think about later, perhaps, when he was properly drunk and not in so much pain. His markings ached. He itched to be out of the chantry, out from under the watchful eye of the Maker and his bride.

"What happened after that?" Sebastian prompted.

"The mage, he struck a deal with Danarius. Finish his apprenticeship and Danarius would hand over my leash to him. He said it. 'You will be mine.' I couldn't believe it."

"You've spoken of his strength. Is it possible Danarius was manipulating him?"

Fenris looked up at him, blinking hard against the emotion rising in his breast. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"What?"

"If he agreed to the apprenticeship because I wasn't there to stop him, I broke my promise. And even if it is as you say, those months apart weren't my fault; I should have stayed to make sure he didn't follow through with it. But I didn't. I ran. I doomed him to his life by not staying with him. I think about that night so often. Replay it. Try to understand what he was thinking."

"You were scared. He was speaking of returning you to a life of slavery. Whether he was sincere or acting under Danarius's yoke, it was normal to be frightened. You ran away in self-preservation."

"But doesn't the Chant specifically say that to lay one's life down for another is most noble of causes?"

"True, but it also teaches us that sometimes the bravest thing to do is to realize when we need help, and admit it. To make a promise to keep your friend from becoming a magister is a noble thing. But you can't blame yourself for a series of events beyond your control that kept you from your promise."

Fenris sighed in frustration, leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs. He stared at his feet, bare and filthy against the Chantry's pristine floors. He still refused to wear shoes, the soles of his feet quite tough from years of exposure. After being a slave so long, wearing shoes seemed wrong, odd and uncomfortable.

"But what about now?" Fenris asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Should I return to Tevinter? Seek him out? Try to help him?"

"I can't give you that answer, Fenris. That's something you have to ask and answer for yourself. But what I can promise you is that whatever you decide, the Maker will be at your side to help you."

Fenris sniffed surreptitiously. He hated to feel this way. To wonder what happened to Anders, if Anders hated him for that night. He'd been able to forget so much of his past, but his hatred of Danarius and his fear for Anders' fate kept him anchored firmly there, and he was unable to move forward. His shoulders shook, and Sebastian's hand returned, warm and gentle, reassuring.

"I don't know what to do," Fenris admitted. "I hate this weakness inside me. Caring about what happened. Wondering if he hates me. If he forgives me."

"To love is not a weakness. Neither is regret. Though the Maker would see us let go of that. To live without fear."

Fenris let out a sob that turned into a laugh. He watched as his tears dotted the Chantry's floor. "I have no idea what that feels like."

"Trust in the Maker that He will provide you with an answer."

Fenris said nothing else, and eventually his tears subsided. He wiped at his eyes, sniffing and feeling much like a child in need of its mother. It was disgusting, and he hated it.

"Do you want me to pray with you?" Sebastian asked gently.

Fenris frowned, but nodded. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and Sebastian began to pray.

"Maker, though the darkness comes upon us, we shall embrace the light, we shall weather the storm. We shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."

Fenris covered his face with his hands and listened as Sebastian recited lines from different canticles, recalling passages to put him at peace. Though he didn't follow the words, Sebastian's soft tone and pleasant voice washed over him, as warm and inviting as the blue light of Anders' healing spells. Several minutes later, Fenris had calmed down enough to look up, and Sebastian fell silent.

"I think… I think I'd like to find my sister."

"I didn't realize you had a sister."

"Someone told me about her years ago. I think maybe I want to start there."

Sebastian nodded. "Whatever I can do to help."

"I need to get letters to Tevinter. I… I can't write in the language. Only the trade tongue and not very well."

"I'll see about finding you a translator. Would you come by tomorrow evening?"

"Yes, thank you, Sebastian." Fenris stood, pulling his hood back up though the chantry had been empty for a while.

Sebastian took his hand, gripping tightly. "Have faith, Fenris. The Maker will see you through this. You'll see."

Fenris smiled, tight-lipped, and left quickly, feeling lighter and more focused now that he had a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris hated asking for favors. He despised being in anyone's debt. Before Hawke it was easy. He would steal coin, hire mercenaries. The job would be done and he wouldn't owe anyone anything. But with Hawke it was different. After Fenris hired Anso and he found Hawke, Hawke helped clear Danarius's mansion without any thought of monetary compensation. When Fenris offered it, Hawke declined. So Fenris did what he thought would settle the debt: he offered his services to Hawke. He was thankful the man didn't require much of him, and seemed to give him an out with every task. Mostly it was menial things. Clearing out mines, answering the Chanter's board requests, and cleaning up the streets at night when the gangs came out. And Hawke insisted on giving him a share of the profits. It was less servitude and more partnership. And Fenris wasn't sure he liked it, considering how badly the last one had gone.

But he couldn't face this alone. He needed help, and Hawke was help. Sebastian had come through on his promise and found a translator who could write Tevene. Fenris dictated four letters in all over the course of two months, the nightmares plaguing him nearly every time he tried to rest. Thoughts of Tevinter consumed him almost to madness and he found himself spending more and more time in the chantry and less in the Hanged Man. Sebastian sat with him, sometimes talking, sometimes letting Fenris sit quietly. For all the praying Sebastian did, Fenris realized the easiest way to sleep was to drink himself into it. So it was that he approached Hawke's mansion late one evening, halfway to oblivion when he'd finally worked enough courage to knock on the door.

Orana answered. Fenris blanched. He recalled yelling at Hawke when he advised the girl to seek out his mansion, and apologized immediately when Hawke explained that he hired her as a servant, not a slave. Fenris thought Hawke would make a benevolent master, regardless, but didn't voice the opinion. Anders hadn't taken kindly to the suggestion and he thought perhaps Hawke would bloody his face if Fenris lent him the same compliment. Being free was terribly confusing.

"Oh Messere Fenris," she said, curtsying. "Messere Hawke isn't in right now but he'll be back soon. Would you like to wait?"

Fenris was relieved she'd broken her habit of calling everyone 'Master' and 'Mistress.' He nodded, swaying a bit, not trusting himself to speak without slurring his words. She led him inside to the library. Fenris had been there several times. It was the preferred place for Hawke to continue teaching him to read. Despite having a good grasp already, he actually enjoyed the lessons and continued to attend. A part of him wished Hawke would read to him. The way Anders had.

Thinking of Anders, the warmth of his friend next to him, curled up together on a couch or in bed while Anders read ridiculous romance stories or crime thrillers made his head ache and his chest tight. Orana poured him a snifter of brandy and curtsied before leaving. Fenris looked at the drink in his hand before bringing it to his lips. He had no idea what kind it was, but it kept the buzzing in head going. Hawke's armchairs were soft and plush and he was halfway to sleep, the glass tilting precariously in his loose fingers when the door opened.

"Fenris?"

"Mm." He liked Hawke's voice. Of course thinking about Hawke's voice made him think about Anders and how he used to read to him. "Read me a story," he slurred.

"How drunk are you?"

Fenris opened his eyes, looking up at the man standing in front of him. Hawke normally cut an imposing figure, but framed in the firelight, he was positively ominous. But Fenris wasn't afraid, even if Hawke's leather jerkin was covered in dark red blood that still looked quite fresh.

"I'm perfectly sober."

"You're also a bad liar." Hawke plucked the glass from his fingers and knocked it back with a wince before replacing the glass on the sideboard. "Orana said you wanted to see me." He settled in a chair next to Fenris.

Fenris fumbled in his cloak, pulling out a crumpled letter and handed it to Hawke, who took it with a frown. "It's from my sister."

Hawke tutted. "I can't read Tevinter."

"Tevene," Fenris corrected. He recited three lines from the page in the language. "She wrote last month that she's coming to Kirkwall. I asked Aveline to keep an eye out for an elf matching her description and apparently she came in this morning. I received that note," he said with a lazy gesture toward Hawke. "Just this afternoon. She took a room at the Hanged Man."

"This is… bad news?" Hawke asked tentatively.

"It's news," Fenris confirmed. "Good or bad."

"Don't you want to meet her?"

Fenris scowled, wishing he had the glass of brandy back in his hand. He'd been thinking about it all afternoon. A sister, someone he'd never met before. Someone he could ask for details about Tevinter. Someone who might know the location of Anders. Or would be able to find him. To see if he was still with Danarius or if he'd become a full-fledged magister.

"I don't know."

Hawke sighed, handing the note back. "Either way, it would be stupid to go alone. It could be a trap."

"Don't you think I know that?" Fenris snapped, crumpling the note in his hand. He threw it at the fireplace, scowling as it bounced on the hearthstone.

Hawke raise a hand and ignited a small spark that engulfed it. "So that's why you came? To ask for help?"

Fenris grumbled and shifted in his chair, head heavy.

"Didn't quite catch that," Hawke said, almost jovially.

"Yes! Damn you," Fenris growled. "I can't face her alone. Even if it's not a trap, what do I say? I have no memory of her. If she's legitimately my sister, I can't just walk up to her and… and…"

"Say hello?"

Fenris scowled, regretting coming to Hawke for help. He was insufferable in his simplicity. It wasn't as easy as he was predicting. "Yes, why didn't I think of that?" he said sarcastically.

"Because that's what you keep me around for."

"You're irritating."

"And you're very drunk. Do you want to stay here for the night? I'll have Orana make up a guest room."

Fenris folded his arms, pulling his legs up under him. The smaller he was, the safer he felt. As vexatious as Hawke tended to be, crawling under his skin and staying there like a bad rash, the man had a point. But that only made it worse. "I will return to the mansion," he said obstinately. "And tomorrow you'll come with me to the Hanged Man and we'll confront this 'sister' of mine."

"Mm. Do you want me to walk you out?"

"I know my way to your front door, Hawke. It's barely a hundred paces away."

"Well. I need to clean up," Hawke said, reaching over to clap Fenris on the knee before he stood. "I'll see you in the morning then. Good night, Fenris."

Fenris glared by way of response, and watched Hawke leave the room. He turned back to the fire. At least he wouldn't be alone when he confronted Varania. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wing of the chair, face pressed against the velvety upholstery. He would rest before returning to his mansion and be ready to go by the afternoon.

-

"Fenris."

Fenris groaned, eyes opening. Immediately he regretted it, the light creating a sharp stabbing pain that went directly to his brain, and closed them tightly. He shifted, a warm weight on top of him. A blanket, but not his own. And he was in a chair, not bed. Had he fallen asleep sitting up again? It would make sense. He often never made it to his bed on the nights he drank. He'd take the hangover and the sore muscles over the nightmares he'd be having.

"Fenris," came the slightly singsong voice.

"Get out of my house, Hawke," he muttered, his arms feeling like lead weights as he lifted them to wipe at his face. The blanket fell off him and he realized he was still fully clothed. Good for that. It would be irritating to be found naked in a chair with a hangover, Hawke's stupid grin and off-color humor making a jest about the size of his nether region.

"I would love to comply with your wishes, Fenris, but you see you're in my library. Where you fell asleep last night. Or should I say passed out?"

Fenris opened his eyes slowly, wincing against the light. Hawke wasn't lying. The room he was in was indeed the library at Hawke's estate, the chair a plush, overstuffed thing, not his well-worn one. "How kind of you to make sure I was comfortable," he said, kicking away the blanket.

Hawke smirked. "I thought so. Here."

Fenris flinched as the man placed a meaty hand against his forehead. He'd kept his farmboy physique despite his use of magic, and Fenris was grudgingly impressed with the way he handled a blade. Hawke would never be as good as he was, but it was enough to handle a Templar or two if they decided to neutralize the magic. And speaking of magic, Hawke was pushing a warm burst of it that made his markings flare. His skin itched, but his head cleared.

"There. Now you can have breakfast with me, then go home to wash and change," Hawke said with a grin.

"Don't order me around," Fenris snapped.

Hawke sighed, waving a hand. "Do whatever you want. I was just suggesting it might be a good idea to get cleaned up before you go meeting a long lost family member. Oh and you might want to bring your sword, too."

"Is there ever a moment of the day where you're not completely insufferable?"

Hawke tapped a finger against his lips, pretending to think. "Hm. Yes. A very small window just after sunrise. Or so I'm led to believe."

"They lied to you."

Hawke left the room, chuckling. Fenris leaned over and grabbed up the blanket, folding it before tossing it over the back of the chair. As he left the library, he was greeted by the smell of bacon and his stomach twisted. Insufferable as Hawke was, free food was free food. And Orana usually cooked more than Hawke could eat. Still annoyed but unwilling to face Varania without sustenance, he plodded to the dining room, glad when Hawke said nothing, simply rustled the newspaper.

Fenris rankled, but ignored the smug smirk. He thanked Orana for the plate and the coffee and was on his sixth slice of bacon before he felt even a little better. "I'm not…"

The paper rustled again. "Not?" Hawke prompted.

"What you said before when I told you of… of him."

"The other mage? What did I say?"

Fenris scowled, wondering if Hawke was teasing him. But he seemed honest at least. "When you said that if you didn't know better, you would think me in love with him."

"Oh." Hawke paused, folding the newspaper and setting it aside. He frowned a little, sitting back. "It would be understandable if you were-"

"I'm not," Fenris said sharply.

Hawke shrugged. "It's not my business."

"You're right. It's not."

"So why bring it up?" Hawke asked, taking a sip of coffee.

Fenris huffed, looking down at his plate. "You say talking helps and yet when I express a sentiment, you make light of it."

There was a pause, then, "I'm sorry."

Fenris grunted and picked up his fork, poking idly at the eggs on his plate. "Danarius pushed us together. His initial plan for Anders was to turn him into a pleasure slave." He would have told Sebastian, but the Chantry Brother was too sympathetic at times. Hawke knew how to keep his mouth shut and listen when it was important. "He changed his mind when he realized how powerful he was. A spirit healer."

Hawke let out a low whistle.

Not for the first time, Fenris appreciated that Hawke was a mage. He didn't have to explain how important that bit of information was. "But I was still put in charge of his… training before that. And when he pleased Danarius, Danarius gave him a favor."

"A favor?"

Fenris flicked his fork idly. "The magisters' way of believing they were benevolent masters. If they granted the occasional favor to a slave, they could pretend they were kind. That the beatings they handed out were just."

"The way you describe them, they sound like such a delightful bunch."

"He used his favor to keep me at his side. And we were granted a small suite for ourselves."

"I'm guessing that's pretty unusual."

Fenris shrugged. "Slaves belong to their masters and dire consequences can come of slaves coupling. It's dangerous to get too close to one another. Sometimes a wife and husband are allowed…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "It's complicated. But nothing belongs to a slave, not even his own flesh. I never had that problem – no slave wanted to get too close to me. I was… intimidating to them." He waited to see if Hawke would say anything, but the mage kept his silence. "I knew the rules. I knew what would happen if we showed any affection for one another. And thinking back on it, I'm almost sure Danarius continued to put us together so we'd grow fond of one another. I think he expected it."

"Why? He seems the jealous type from how you describe him."

A bitter laugh forced its way from his lips. "But not in the way you'd think. Not how a lover would be. We were property. And no one touches a magister's property without permission. Not even another slave. There were… times," he said, brow furrowing. "Times when we gave in."

The silence stretched between them for almost a full minute before Hawke cleared his throat. "Did Danarius catch you?"

"No. Another slave did."

"Oh."

"I killed her." Fenris felt the disapproval as Hawke shifted in his seat. "She would have told Danarius and I couldn't let him hurt Anders."

"So what happened?"

"I received five lashes. A light punishment for the inconvenience of replacing a maid."

Hawke snorted derisively. "No wonder the Chantry speaks out about Tevinter. I never knew half the things you told me about that place. Sounds like a shithole. So you and this guy, you kept one another safe. I mean… I can't say for sure what's normal in a situation like that, but you have to make the best of things."

"I… suppose you're right."

"Do you think your sister would know anything about him?"

Fenris sighed, letting his fork clank to the plate. He pushed it away and drummed his fingertips on the tabletop, feeling restless. "It depends. She was in Qarinus, so I'm told. A servant, not a slave. A tailor, in fact. It's possible she's heard of him but I wouldn't expect it. Unless he's made a very big name for himself, which…"

"Hm?"

"There's something else I should tell you. Just in case."

"This just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"

"Anders was… is… he has a…" Fenris faltered, trying to think of the best way to phrase this. "He has a Fade spirit sharing his soul."

Hawke scowled, crossing his arms, disapproval clear on his face. "He's an abomination?"

"No, not in the connotations of the word, not truly," Fenris said, trying to ignore the prickle of annoyance he felt at the insult. Hawke was vehemently against making bargains with demons and anything to do with blood magic. It was a wonder he kept that Dalish elf around – Merrill. Fenris only ever saw her on occasion. But Anders wasn't an abomination. He'd made no deals with demons as far as Fenris was aware. "We didn't speak much on it. But Danarius talked about it when I ah… Was _with_ him. He would go on about the plans he had for his bird and the spirit inside him."

"Still."

"Hawke. It's not important. And should you meet him, you're welcome to discuss the finer points of spirit possession. But you have to know that the thing inside him struck down at least half a dozen magisters. I saw it happen, though I was yards away."

The bright blue light in the middle of the ocean as the Qunari descended, the screams of the magisters as they were murdered. As much as the power of Anders frightened Fenris, he couldn't be upset over the deaths of the men who were happy to leave him and hundreds of others to be slaughtered.

"So if we go after him, we might also have to go up against his buddy from the Fade."

"Possibly. If he remained with Danarius… Hawke, he might be with him. If this is a trap set up to retrieve me…"

Hawke stared down at the table a moment, lips pursed. "That could be an issue. I'll send word to Varric, see if he can rustle up some Coterie back up. And Isabela will be there too."

"I don't wish to put them in danger. And it's possible I'm simply overreacting and Varania came alone."

"Better over prepared and looking like a fool than under prepared and dead."

"We could be both prepared and dead, Hawke."

Hawke shrugged. "More backup, then. I'll get Merrill and ask Aveline for a hand."

"Your solution is to put more of your friends in danger. For what?"

Hawke was grinning now. "For another friend. Don't make that face."

Fenris turned away, feeling his irritation rising. "Fine. I'll… speak to Sebastian."

"If nothing else, he's a decent shot," Hawke agreed. "The more artillery we have the better. And if it turns out it's just your sister and not some surprise attack, you can buy everyone a round for the inconvenience."

Fenris smiled a bit at that. "Very well. But prepare them for the worst."

"I always do," Hawke said with a grin.


	4. Chapter 4

Fenris lurked in a side alley, arms crossed, greatsword strapped to his back. Hawke assured him that Aveline and a handful of her guards were already inside the tavern. Slavery was illegal in Kirkwall and the Captain wouldn't suffer a slaver in her midst. She had said something about 'due process' and 'red tape' but Fenris missed the finer points. He doubted Danarius, if he was here, would sit down to fill out paperwork calmly to have him shipped back to Tevinter legally. And if he struck first, the Guard would respond. Less savory were the Coterie thugs that Varric managed to scrape up. Fenris promised he would repay him for that. Isabela was inside, and Hawke was bringing Merrill.

"Fenris?"

He looked up. Sebastian stood in front of him, full armor, bow strapped to his back. When he'd sent a hurried letter requesting his friend's presence, he hadn't fully expected Sebastian to drop everything to attend to him. But it was a relief to see him there.

"Sebastian."

"Your note said it might be dangerous. You think…"

"I can't be sure if he's inside," Fenris said. "But be careful."

Sebastian clapped him on the arm. "If Danarius has come for you, we'll not let him take you back, Fenris. You're a free elf. Your life is your own to live."

Fenris nodded, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. "Hawke will be waiting with backup."

"Smart. Let us hope they won't be necessary. I'll be by your side, Fenris. You can do this. Shall we?"

"Yes, I suppose we should."

Sebastian gave a gentle squeeze and led Fenris around the corner and into the Hanged Man. Hawke looked up from his spot by the bar, tossed down a coin and came over. Sebastian eyed his staff but said nothing. Fenris had no idea how they felt toward one another except perhaps a slight animosity. Hawke assisted Sebastian some years back and his status as city Champion kept the Templars at bay. That didn't mean the mage prejudice was eradicated, however, and Sebastian was as Chantry as they came. Fenris nodded to Hawke and glanced around.

The tavern was half-full, and he saw Isabela, Varric and Merrill in the corner, playing cards but not paying much attention to their hands. He noted Aveline and a few guards wearing plainclothes, sitting at another table, talking quietly. But something overall was different. Corff, the owner, was missing. A mean looking broad shouldered man stood behind the bar in his place. He noticed also that the usual patrons were missing and the ones in their place were quiet, keeping their heads down in their drinks. Fenris was trained at an early age to sense situations like this in order to keep Danarius safe. This was the first time he'd been the proprietor of it, though. It felt almost good, like having control for once.

"Do you see her?" Sebastian asked.

"There," Fenris said, spying an elf in the corner.

It had to be her. And as he approached, he had a flash of memory of that red hair. A little girl who shoved him down into the mud, laughing when he pulled her down too. They were in Danarius's courtyard where he… where he used to train with Anders. Why didn't he remember that before? Why now?

"Varania?" he asked, as they approached. She didn't look up, her hands twisting around her mug. "I remember you," he said uncertainly. "We played in the courtyard while our mother worked."

_She giggled and help him up, tugging a strand of his hair before running off. "Catch me…!"_

He frowned. "You called me…"

"Leto," Varania said. "That's your name."

Fenris shuddered, eyes closed.

_"Catch me, Leto!"_

_"Children!"_

_A woman with the same red hair calling them from the porch. His short legs trying to keep up with his sister. His mother's tears as she hugged them tightly, smoothing their hair, telling them to be good, to always be good and do whatever the magister wanted. Danarius emerging, tilting his chin up._

_"Such a ferocious little wolf."_

Varania stood, looking at him sadly. "I'm sorry, Leto."

Fenris shook his head. "Why are you-"

"Ah, my little Fenris."

Fenris was trembling before the man had finished speaking. He looked up, temporarily paralyzed with fear, a flood of memories from more than a half a decade ago holding him in place. On either side of him, both Sebastian and Hawke stepped forward, shielding him as Danarius walked down the tavern steps. He was older and the years hadn't been kind. Three faint scar lines raked his face, a cat claw attack from the Fog Warriors. The sound of plate metal, a dozen or more Tevinter soldiers followed him. Danarius had returned to claim him.

"You led him here," Fenris accused, snarling at Varania, who backed up at once.

"Now, now, Fenris," Danarius said, moving to stand in front of him. "Don't blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen would have done."

Fenris opened his mouth to speak when another man stepped out from behind Danarius. He felt dizzy, choking on his panic. Anders, but he looked so… so different. When he met the mage, he was an untamed thing, fierce and wild, obstinate and unafraid. Now he seemed taller. His long blond hair was drawn back into a tight ponytail, eyes brighter than he remembered, several golden hoops adorning his ears. A thick silver collar around his neck, though Fenris couldn't feel any of the magister's dark magic emanating from it; it seemed purely decorative. His robes were white, decorated with the house dragon in dark blue thread and he stood with his hands folded in front of him, waiting. A long black metal staff was strapped to his back, a glittering crystal prism at the top held in place by twisting silver. It caught the light and threw rainbow patterns against the wall and floor.

"Anders," he gasped.

Danarius glanced back to Anders, who looked at Danarius with unabashed affection and adoration. "Bellales was all too eager to see you again, my little wolf. You were all he spoke of for weeks. And it was all thanks to Varania, who was only too happy to inform me of your new residence." He glanced from Hawke to Sebastian, who flanked Fenris, both tall, broad, and intimidating. "I see you've acquired new masters. The Champion of Kirkwall is it? Impressive. And this stunning specimen of the very best stock Starkhaven has to offer. Prince, if I'm not mistaken after the unfortunate passing of your family. You have my condolences, Prince Vael."

Sebastian shifted, arms crossed. "If you know who I am, magister, you know that slavery is illegal from where I hail. And everywhere in the Free Marches."

Danarius smirked before turning to Hawke. "And you, Champion. If you were to return my property to me, I could make it worth your while."

"All right, I'll make a deal," Hawke said, fists clenching as he flexed menacingly. "You leave Fenris alone and I won't kill you and all your men."

Danarius laughed. "Is that a hint of jealousy in your tone, Champion? I don't blame you. Fenris is rather… skilled, isn't he? You can see why I want him back."

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris snapped.

Anders calmly pulled his staff from his back and stepped forward, ignoring as Sebastian and Hawke moved to intercept him. He looked directly at Fenris, leveling his gaze. "Show our master the respect he deserves, Fenris."

Fenris swallowed hard, feeling sick. It was Anders who gave him the strength and courage to refer to Danarius by his name. Seeing him now, fallen so far, standing beside the man who enslaved them both, bending to his will, it repulsed him. Infuriated him. He felt his markings flare, a sharp pain rippling over his skin. Anders reacted at once, slamming the end of his staff to the ground, sending a force wave of energy that threw Fenris off his feet. Hawke and Sebastian landed hard next to him and a cacophony of battle erupted, chairs scraping, people yelling.

Sebastian gained his feet first, pulling Fenris up beside him. Fenris ducked a sword swipe from a soldier and pulled his own from his back. He lost the thread of the fight quickly, parrying and blocking. For Danarius to bring only a handful of soldiers was an insult. They were summarily cut down by the Coterie hirelings and city guard. Fenris turned to see Danarius standing at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed, looking bored. A thick white shield surrounded him and in front of him Anders crouched, staff held parallel to the ground, eyes glowing with an ethereal pale blue light. Fenris felt the power a split second before it erupted.

"Watch out!" Fenris bellowed, raising his sword.

A burst of blue lightning exploded from Anders' chest and splintered. Spiderlike and quick as a flash the electricity crackled through the room, catching four Coterie thugs, burning right through them. Screams filled the tavern as the stench of charred flesh reached his nostrils. Someone fell into him and he turned to see the man drop to the ground, the floor visible through the three apple-sized holes in his chest. The door of the tavern opened and Fenris saw several men run out.

_Cowards!_

He had no time to think of the money that they were paid to do a job. Danarius was laughing, speaking in Tevene so fast that Fenris couldn't make it out. His markings sang of the impending danger and a second later the screams of rage demons overtook those of the men who lay in pieces on the floor. He took his eyes off Danarius in order to block an oncoming attack from a demon behind him. Hawke shouted something but Fenris didn't hear. He shoved the demon back and drove his sword into its chest. Molten hot, the proximity of the demon caused him to break into sweat as it swiped for his head.

And arrow fired from either Varric or Sebastian caught its arm and Fenris pulled his sword back before swinging it in a high arc, cleaving the demon from its shapeless shoulder diagonally in half. It exploded and he caught a blast of flame in his arm as he raised it to protect his face. Pain blistered over his skin, but he ignored it. A dozen or more shades were rising and the ground opened, a tumultuous thundering as skeletons began pulling themselves from the depths. The fallen Coterie rose as well, and Fenris swore viciously.

"Danarius, stop this!" he screamed over the noise of the battle.

Danarius merely laughed. "Bellales, show Fenris our true power."

Anders gripped his staff with both hands, pressing his forehead to it. A fluttering wind played around the edges of his robe, a brilliant white circle of light surrounding him. His eyes burned with the light of the Fade spirit inside him, and a very high-pitched buzzing filled the air. Fenris felt his lyrium markings burn and he cried out, hands shaking, he dropped his sword. Hawke fell beside him, staff clattering to the floor. He heard Merrill yell out something in elven, her chain mail rattling as she slumped behind him. The wave of energy, the pressure didn't seem to be affecting the others. A spell to cow other mages? Other magisters? He saw Varric fall, coat bloody as a shade descended upon him. Heard Aveline's cry as she tried to fight against the desire demon that closed in on her. Isabela dropped to one knee, her dagger doing little to stop the onslaught of a corpse that Danarius resurrected. They were losing the fight, despite all their precautions.

Fenris started to crawl, every muscle in his body protesting, screaming against the use. "Danarius," he choked. He knew what he had to do. Even if it meant returning to Tevinter. Even if it meant not being free. He couldn't let the others die for him.

"Fenris!"

Sebastian's pained gasp. Fenris ignored him.

"Danarius," he said again. "I'll go… stop this."

He looked up from the floor, the energy waves from Anders continued, deafening and blinding them as the corpses only seemed to gain in power. Hawke was nearly unconscious, fighting to get to his feet. Fenris reached up before he couldn't take it any longer, and collapsed on the floor. Danarius stepped forward, touching Anders on the shoulder. Anders straightened, raising a hand, and pulled the energy back into himself. It happened as quickly as blowing out a candle. At once the noise stopped, the light faded. The blue cracks in Anders' skin were gone and his eyes resumed their normal honey-amber color. Danarius crouched down and pulled Fenris's chin up.

"My little wolf. Seeing reason?"

Fenris shook, feeling something wet on his cheeks. He reached up with a shaking hand and realized two thin rivulets of blood were leaking from his ears. His nose had also started to bleed and he pressed his forearm against it, wiping it away. "I'll come with you. Just… leave them alive."

Danarius chuckled, pulling him up to sit. "They killed my guards. I think I deserve some compensation."

"I'll do anything you wish," Fenris said. "Master."

"Fenris, no!" 

"Leave it, Sebastian," Fenris said, as sharply as he could, considering how weak he felt.

Danarius looked up to Anders. "What do you think is a fitting punishment?"

Before Anders could answer, the room darkened. It happened in an instant, too fast for anyone to react. One second, Danarius was looking at Anders and the next, his eyes filled with blood. He grabbed his chest. Two blackened hands reached out from thin air and wrapped around Danarius.

"MASTER!" Anders cried, raising a hand to stop the crushing prison.

But it was too late. The hands squeezed and pulled apart and Danarius's body twisted violently. With a sickening _crunch_ bones broke and his body fell to the ground, Anders with it as he frantically took him up by the robes, white-blue light filling his palms. He was trying to heal him. It didn't seem to register to him that Danarius was dead, that Hawke had somehow managed to summon enough energy to put forth one more spell. And the room was deadly silent save for Anders' sobs and his magic, humming as he tried to bring Danarius back from death.

"Anders," Fenris croaked, before blacking out from pain.

"He's not dead," he heard someone say a second later, and opened his eyes.

"There he is."

_What?_ he tried to ask.

"No, don't speak." Sebastian's voice. The accent was a dead giveaway.

Something cool was pressed to his lips and he turned his head away, sputtering.

"Stubborn elf." Hawke. "Drink the damn potion."

Fenris relented. It was cool and soothing and brought back his strength. Hands pulled him into a sitting position and he pressed his palm to his forehead before looking around. The room spun slightly, but he recognized Hawke and Sebastian next to him, the latter with a hand against his back while the former peered into his face.

"There you are," Hawke said. "You weren't as bad as Varric and he came through it fine."

"I don't know if I'd call that 'fine,' Hawke," Varric said from somewhere across the room, sounding disgruntled.

"How long was I…"

"About an hour," Hawke said.

"What happened?"

Hawke suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable. "Yeah. About that. We need to talk."

Fenris felt a churning in his stomach and lurched forward. Sebastian was there, arms around him, holding him up as he vomited, sick spattering against the dirty wooden floor. He winced and retched again, feeling some of it hit his knees.

"Cold towel," Sebastian said, and a second later, a soothing coolness was pressed to the back of Fenris's neck. "Better?"

"Ugh," Fenris muttered.

Sebastian and Hawke pulled him to his feet and away from the mess. They settled him on a bench and he looked around. The room was littered with bodies, some human some demon. Tevinter soldiers, skeletons, two desire demons and several of the city guard. And at the foot of the stairs, Danarius. Fenris felt a sweeping relief despite his sickness. Danarius was dead. Finally. After all these years. But there was something else…

"Where's…"

He looked around and saw him. Quiet, alone, in a corner, head bowed. His staff lay on the floor at his feet. Anders looked completely unharmed, but his shoulders slumped and his face was tear-streaked. Fenris had an overwhelming compulsion to walk over and… half of him wanted to hug his old friend while the other more logical half demanded vengeance for the havoc he caused.

"Yeah, about him," Hawke said, again with the same discomfort in his tone. "Apparently since I killed Danarius, his property defaults to me?"

Fenris started to unstrap his gauntlets, his armor suddenly feeling very constricting. "Tevinter law. If a magister dies from natural causes – which is rare – the estate goes to next of kin or auctioned. If he's killed in a duel or…" Suddenly he realized. "Anders."

"He… it was weird. After you blacked out he came over and healed me and asked me what I wanted him to do. Don't get me wrong," Hawke said, palms up in a placative gesture. "My first thought was to just kill him, but I didn't want that on my head since you… Well."

Fenris grunted. He wondered how angry he would've been if Hawke had killed Anders, considering everything that happened.

"So I told him to heal the others. And he did. Everyone's… well. Not everyone is fine. The Coterie agents that didn't run are all dead and Aveline lost three men. But everyone else made it through. I didn't realize… I know about spirit healers, but he's something else. He healed them all and he didn't even need lyrium."

Fenris scowled. There was something like awe in Hawke's voice and he hated it. Mages. Always looking for more power. "Congratulations. You have a slave," he spat.

"What? No! I don't want one," Hawke said hurriedly. "I told him and he just sort of… walked over there and sat down."

Fenris sighed, tossing his gauntlets on a table. Aveline called for Hawke and he stepped away to talk to her. Sebastian sat down carefully next to Fenris.

"Fenris. You know that wasn't Hawke's intention."

"Mm."

"I think maybe you should talk to your… talk to Anders. He looks like he needs help."

Fenris looked slowly at Sebastian, who held his gaze. "He just very nearly killed every one of us and you want me to _help_ him?"

"He was working under Danarius's orders. And it's clear he's lost now. He needs your strength to help him to regain his freedom. You know I'll help you guide him to the right path, but Fenris… He needs you."

Fenris hated Sebastian in that moment. And Hawke. And everyone in that room. But most especially he hated Danarius for doing this to him. For doing this to Anders. On surprisingly steady legs he stood up and crossed the room, stopping to look down at the body of his former master. He felt nothing. No sadness, no remorse. Not even the swell of vengeance. Perhaps a spark of relief, but even that was too small to be recognized. He continued to Anders and cleared his throat.

"Anders," he said. "Look at me."

Anders raised his head, an obedient slave. He wasn't crying anymore, but his eyes were glassy and dead. Fenris felt the spiral of hate in his chest slowly disappear as he looked at the broken man before him. 

"We need to talk."


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris turned the mug idly in his hands. He was sitting in Varric's suite, waiting. Downstairs, the buzzing of a crowd. Aveline, her guardsmen, and an officiate from the Templars, who were in charge since the viscount's death years ago. Accounts of the fight were given and Hawke would likely be lauded once again as keeping the peace in Kirkwall. Varric would have a story or two to tell about the brave Champion who took on a powerful Tevinter magister. Fenris only wondered if he'd leave out the part where Hawke legally inherited everything Danarius owned. Which included the man sitting across from Fenris, eyes trained on the tabletop.

"Do you… remember me?" Fenris asked cautiously.

"Yes, I do."

Fenris sighed. He couldn't be sure what Danarius had done to Anders, to his memory. How far he'd warped the man's mind. Aveline gave him leave to talk to Anders alone while they worked out the finer points of a Fereldan-turned-Kirkwaller owning a Tevinter slave in the Free Marches. It happened; Fenris knew it happened here and in Orlais and possibly other places. People just simply didn't talk about it. They pretended their slaves were servants, but never paid them and never let them acquire any useful skills. The "servants" were stuck with their masters unless they wanted to slum in Darktown or worse. It was the same sort of problems freed slaves in Tevinter encountered. People were just a bit more touchy about it here.

"Can you tell me what Danarius did to you?"

Anders flinched at the name and turned his head. "Our master is … was a benevolent man who taught me much."

Fenris tipped the mug back, swallowing the flat brown ale. He wasn't anywhere near inebriated enough to deal with this. But the people downstairs, his _friends_ , insisted. And since Fenris had put them all in the difficult position of fighting Danarius and nearly dying, he figured he owed this much to them. And some part of him felt obligated to Anders as well. In truth, he just wanted to run. To move on again. But he was tired of running. And for better or worse, Kirkwall had become something like home to him. And with Danarius dead, he was truly free.

"He has not been my master for many years now. And he's no longer yours."

"Yes, I know. Master Hawke is my master now."

Fenris reached for the flagon of ale and refilled his mug. "Tell me what happened after I left."

"After you _ran away_ ," Anders said angrily.

Fenris pursed his lips. "Yes."

"Master Danarius and I returned to Minrathous. He trained me in hopes of one day mounting the search again for you. When news of Hadriana's death reached us, we despaired of ever finding you."

"And Varania?"

"Master Danarius promised her an apprenticeship if she led us to you."

"Of course," Fenris sneered. "Anders… what did he do to you? That magic?"

Anders folded his arms over his chest, though it seemed more of an act of comfort than defiance. "He taught me how to control Justice. We worked at it every day until I learned how to harness my power."

Fenris wondered exactly what kind of training Danarius put Anders through. He lacked his usual spark, the bite that drew Fenris toward him in the first place. He was a shell. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, surprised with the empathy that filled him as Anders frowned.

"He was my master. If I was punished, it was my fault. I wasn't fast enough. Or strong enough. Or lost control. But he taught me."

"You've been thoroughly brainwashed," Fenris concluded. "I can't tell if it's a spell or-"

Anders looked up sharply, eyes flashing with a bluish tint. "Master Danarius did not brainwash me. He is a just master. You hurt him when you left. You hurt _me_ when you left."

"I… know," Fenris said, draining his mug again. He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That night… I… I've thought about it. A lot."

Anders remained silent, uncrossing his arms. He folded his hands atop the table and waited.

"I'm sorry," Fenris said finally. "I broke my promise to you."

"Promise?" Anders asked, brow furrowed, confusion etched into the lines around his frown.

"I promised you I wouldn't let you fall to the will of the magisters. Do you remember that? When were in Minrathous for Satinalia."

Anders shook his head widely, a few strands of hair coming loose from his ponytail. "No. You left. You denied our master. You left us both to die on that island."

Fenris's anger flared. " _He_ left _me_ to die! Four months before you came back to find me. You both did!"

"No…" Anders said, sounding pained. "No, I don't…"

"Yes," Fenris snarled. "Is that what you can't remember? The night Danarius dragged you onto that boat. The night he saved you instead of me? Instead of both of us? You left me there!" His chest tightened, a logical part of his brain screaming that it wasn't Anders' fault that he'd been left behind. That it shouldn't even matter because if he had gone with them, he'd still be a slave now. But the other part, the part that was jealous and bitter, didn't care. Danarius had chosen to save Anders instead of him. And he was disgusted with himself that there was even an inkling of that emotion.

"I remember… bits and pieces. It was so long ago."

"Mm." Fenris reached for the flagon and poured the last few drops into his mug before drinking. "So let me regale you with my recollection of the events. The Qunari attacked. Danarius proclaimed you his apprentice and saved your life. You both left me there to die. I nearly did. I was saved by the Fog Warriors who took me in and trained me. I had a life, I had a family. For four months I learned that I didn't have to be a slave. I thought that if – when," he corrected himself, "you came for me, we could escape Serehon together. Leave Tevinter behind. Like you promised. Do you remember your promise to me that you broke?"

Anders shook his head quickly, eyes lowered, fingers curling against the tabletop.

Fenris growled. "When you came for me, you told me that Danarius made you a deal. That he would gift me to you. You wanted me in chains still. You wanted to keep me as a slave. To become a magister yourself. Everything that you hated, everything that you feared to become, you became," he said, disgusted with Anders and with himself. "And I… I ran. I let you fall." He pushed away from the table, the chair scraping along the floor.

"I didn't fall, Fenris," Anders said quietly. "I became more powerful than any magister."

"Yes, and that's so much better," Fenris replied acidly. "A chained and leashed mage with the power to flatten your fellows. Do you even remember why you left Ferelden in the first place?"

"I…"

"You wanted to free the mages in Thedas."

Anders shook his head. "No."

"Yes," Fenris hissed. "It was your purpose, your cause. You hated the Circle, you hated that mages were imprisoned, and you hated Tevinter! You called it the two extremes! After freeing mages in Thedas, you were going to liberate Tevinter! You talked about this daily, Anders. Do you even remember?" He was almost yelling now, and didn't care that Anders flinched as his voice rose with anger.

The door opened. "Sounds like we're making progress," Hawke said, stepping in.

Anders immediately stood from the chair then knelt, head bowed. "Master."

Fenris looked up, feeling both sorry for Hawke and relieved at the horrified expression on his face. The last thing he needed right now was the betrayal of another friend if Hawke decided that it would be useful to have a slave like Anders.

"Could you just… get up off the floor, please?" Hawke asked uncomfortably. "It's filthy."

Anders stood at once, obedience burned into his core. "Yes, Master."

"And for Andraste's sake, stop calling me Master! Maker's breath it's like Orana all over again," Hawke sighed.

"Yes, mas…" Anders frowned.

"Hawke. Call me Hawke," he said, and nodded to Fenris. "Any beer left?"

"Finished it," Fenris said, eyeing the flagon balefully.

Hawke huffed in annoyance. "We should move this back to the estate. Aveline's letting things go for now. Word's being sent to Tevinter regarding Danarius's fortune. Apparently I get it all. Just what I need. What am I going to do with a house full of slaves?"

"Is that rhetorical?"

"I wish it was. I honestly don't know. I was hoping you could make a suggestion."

"They'll be lost without masters," Fenris said, standing, gesturing to Anders who hadn't moved. "Some will be fine while others will flounder."

"So I should free them or keep them. Thanks for the insight," Hawke said sarcastically. He started out, and was almost at the stairs when he realized Anders hadn't moved. "Hey. Uh. Anders, right?"

Anders frowned. "Yes, m-Hawke. Or whatever you wish to call me."

"Right. Uh. Follow me. Please."

Fenris scoffed and followed Anders out of Varric's room. The bodies were cleared away and Corff was behind the bar again, supervising the cleanup, the waitresses and a handful of elves scrubbing at the blood stains. Varric was sitting at an unbroken table with Isabela and Merrill, while Sebastian spoke quietly to a Templar Fenris didn't recognize. Hawke gave a wave to Varric, who nodded in return. 

Sebastian pulled himself away from his conversation, saying, "Just a moment," before crossing to Fenris. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking down at him.

"As well as can be expected," Fenris admitted. "I appreciate your help."

"Will I see you at the Chantry later? I need to speak with her Grace about… Well. We can't exactly overlook your… friend's unique abilities."

Fenris felt a shiver down his spine. Of course Sebastian wasn't stupid. He knew something happened to Anders. Whether or not he realized that Anders had a Fade spirit in him, a literal definition of 'abomination' under Chantry law, remained to be seen. Before he could say anything, Hawke had stepped up.

"Feel free to bring the Grand Cleric into it if you want," Hawke said. "But under Tevinter property law, your _Grace_ has no jurisdiction."

"That may be so, but he's still an apostate," Sebastian said. "Grand Cleric Elthina and Knight-Commander Meredith would see that the laws of the Circle of Magi-"

"Tevinter magisters are exempt from the law so long as they don't perform magic in public in the rest of Thedas and follow the laws set by the individual city-states or ruling body of government," Hawke said, sounding as if he'd swallowed a law book.

Fenris was impressed, though he realized that Aveline might have had something to do with Hawke's newfound knowledge of Thedas law regarding mages.

"But he did break the law," Sebastian said. "He killed those men. He attacked us."

"Then he'll be tried under Kirkwall law like anyone else. Until then, Guard-Captain Aveline has given me leave to take him to my estate."

Fenris watched as they glared at one another, and saw a slight crackle of electricity at Anders' fingertips. Sebastian was close to threatening Hawke, whom Anders saw as his new master now. He saw the situation turning volatile quickly, and reached out, wrapping a hand around Anders' wrist. Anders looked down at their connection, then up at Fenris, brows knitting in confusion.

"We should go, Hawke," Fenris said, before looking at Sebastian. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. What could he possibly say to Sebastian now that wouldn't be a platitude? "I'll come to the Chantry tonight."

Sebastian nodded, tight-lipped, and stepped aside. Hawke led the way out and Fenris blinked in the bright afternoon sunlight. Though the confrontation and flurry of investigation after hadn't lasted more than a couple of hours, the cheerful weather seemed out of place. Perhaps it was the dozen dead bodies and the stench of blood they left in their wake. Most of their fights took place in dank alleys, the sewers or the caves along the coast. Dark and private. He was sure by suppertime tonight the news would be spread all over Kirkwall. And then what? Would the Knight-Commander demand that Hawke hand over Anders? Throw him in the Circle? And if so, would he survive? Hawke often spoke of how more and more mages were being made Tranquil.

Would Fenris lose Anders again? First to the magisters, then to the Knight-Commander?

He felt sick, following Hawke up the steps into Hightown. "Hawke."

"Yeah?"

"What will happen?"

Hawke sighed, looking back at him briefly before shrugging. He took the alley that led them through the Red Light District, avoiding the marketplace. Mid-afternoon as it was, they were accosted only once by a woman with a large feathered hat who offered to show Fenris a good time. He ignored her and the insult that followed, irritated at Hawke's lack of response. Once safely inside the Hawke estate, he tried again.

"What will happen to Anders?" he demanded.

"I don't know! There's so much I don't know right now," Hawke admitted.

Fenris winced. He realized he'd been looking to Hawke for answers and it never really occurred to him that Hawke wouldn't have them. "Then it would be wise to strategize."

"Let's get all our cards on the table first," Hawke said, then frowned. "No. Let's get cleaned up first." He was splattered in gore, face sweaty and streaked with dirt. "Can you…" He waved a hand at Anders.

Fenris shifted uncomfortably. "Very well. I will… assist him."

"I'll send Orana to the guest room with clothes for both of you and meet you in the library in half an hour." He turned to leave, but stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Anders, go with Fenris for now."

"Yes, Hawke."

Hawke huffed in annoyance, a long-suffering expression on his face before he climbed the stairs and disappeared out of sight.

"Follow me then," Fenris muttered and led Anders through the estate. He'd been in Hawke's estate enough times not to get completely lost.

Orana was filling a basin with hot water, towels and two sets of clothing sitting on the guest bed when they entered. She curtsied, eyeing Anders warily before leaving without a word. Fenris pulled off his breast plate, remembering belatedly that he'd left his gauntlets in the Hanged Man. Varric would hopefully look after them. He unstrapped his sword and removed his belt, dropping everything to the floor before yanking his tunic over his head and looked back to Anders.

"You're a mess. You… might feel better after you wash up."

A flash of familiarity came across Anders' face, but he didn't move, just frowned. "I…"

"You remember when we shared quarters," Fenris said, his own memories supplying him with his morning routines, Anders helping him with his armor, Anders washing off his back and shoulders before they would curl together in bed.

Anders nodded. "Are you… do you belong to Hawke, too?"

Fenris gripped his tunic, resisting the urge to tear the fabric in two. "No. Hawke is…" A Friend? Companion? "He is an ally." It was good a word as any and truer than most. "I no longer have a master. I am not a slave."

"Oh."

Fenris turned away, stripping off his leggings and reached for a washcloth. But Anders took it from his fingers, dipping it in the water. Fenris hesitated, shoulders tensing as the cloth was dragged over his aching back, up to his neck. Droplets of water slid down his skin, over the swell of his backside and he shivered. It was so familiar, so intimate, and it all came back in a rush. He gripped the edge of the basin, shaking.

"I am not a slave," he repeated, more to himself than to Anders. He knew it would be difficult to see his old friend, but he hadn't realized how deeply his memories would affect him. "I can do that myself."

The cloth stopped, and Fenris missed it at once. Anders apologized and handed it to him. Fenris took it and quickly wiped his face, scrubbing away the dirt and blood before dipping his head into the basin. Beside him, he heard the shuffling of clothing as Anders removed his robe, taking up a cloth for himself. They washed and dried without another word between them, and then dressed. The pants were a bit long and the shirt too broad for his build. But they fit Anders fine, and with his damp hair pulled back, silver collar removed, he looked more like his old self. Fenris noticed he'd left his boots off.

"Did he give you those?" Fenris asked, gesturing to Anders' ears.

Anders touched the golden rings. "They were gifts. Every party where I pleased him, I was given a new piece. The rest are back at the apartment."

Fenris wondered just how many pieces of jewelry Danarius gifted to him. Again he felt a sliver of jealousy that repulsed him. Not that it should have mattered, but Danarius rarely gave him anything but praise. It shouldn't matter to him what trinkets Danarius decided to throw at Anders to keep him docile and obedient.

"Hawke will be waiting," he said gruffly, and nearly ran from the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter posed a bit of a challenge because while there's a lot of information about Tevinter in the wiki and in The World of Thedas book, property law and slavery outside of Tevinter don't really get mentioned. It's talked about that Orlesians do keep slaves ("servants"), but it's not talked about in polite company. And if a Tevinter merchant owns a house in Hightown, a house that Danarius killed and took from him, that poses the question of Tevinter magisters having summer homes or other residences outside the Imperium.
> 
> Clearly I've thought way too long and hard on this but I couldn't help but be fascinated by the possible laws and loopholes which I've included here. I hope I answer those problems to satisfaction. I had a lot of fun dreaming up red tape and how to work around it. ^_^

Paperwork. Mountains of it. Books on law both from Tevinter and Kirkwall. Fenris had never seen so many scraps of paper. But Hawke seemed to have a system at least. They'd been looking for nearly an hour now. Anders sat quietly at his side in a chair at Hawke's insistence after he tried kneeling next to him. Fenris was slowly getting used to the flicker of annoyance and amusement whenever Hawke seemed to flail at every display of subservience from Anders. It was also very reassuring, not that he ever believed Hawke would suddenly decide he had use of a slave.

"Well," Hawke said, taking the last sip of his coffee and setting the mug aside, "the law isn't exactly black and white."

"Mm."

"Insightful, Fenris, thanks."

Fenris sighed. "My apologies. A lot of this vernacular is lost on me."

"That's bloody lawyers for you," Hawke muttered, slamming a book shut.

Beside him, Anders jumped.

"Sorry," Hawke said, and that seemed to startle Anders worse than the book. "Look," he said, turning in his chair, elbow resting on the table. "If I just leave you to it, you'll be put in the Circle. Locked in the Gallows probably, do you know what that means?"

Fenris watched Anders nod. "He doesn't," he said. "The Circles in Tevinter are not like the Circle here. There it means senatorial or Chantry responsibilities. Becoming a magister or an enchanter in order to train other mages."

"Sounds almost pleasant. Too bad about all the blood rituals," Hawke sighed. "You remember me telling you about a Templar named Alrik?"

Fenris recalled that night, Hawke slamming his fist on Varric's table, barely coherent as he shouted about injustices, about the mistreatment of his fellow mages in the Circle. He was drunk, and while normally a rather jovial drunk, something happened that day to enrage him. Not even Varric's jesting could calm him. He remembered Hawke naming Alrik a sadist, demanding they march on the Gallows and tear it apart. Luckily he'd passed out and while he was still incensed the next day, most of his suicidal tendencies had fled with his intoxication.

"I do."

"He's still causing trouble. Anders with the Fade spirit inside him? It would be worse for him inside than any other mage. I don't have proof, but eye witness accounts of mages who've fled the Circle. Alrik would cut him open just for fun."

Fenris looked at Anders, who had his eyes fixed on a book, though he wasn't reading. "You… could take him to Tevinter."

"No." The response was immediate. "There's nothing good there. Not for him, not for me. As big a shithole as Kirkwall is, it's the best place right now. Besides, Meredith would cause problems if I tried to leave. I'd have to officially join the Circle in Tevinter and excommunicate myself from Kirkwall. Ugh," he sighed, head in hands now. "This diplomatic bullshit makes my head hurt."

Anders reached over and placed a hand on the back of Hawke's head. Hawke jumped, but Anders pressed a ball of healing light to his scalp before pulling away.

"… thanks. I guess," Hawke said.

Fenris saw the barest flicker of a smile from Anders and scowled, shoving a book away from himself. "This is getting us nowhere."

A knock on the library door and a moment later Orana ascended the steps. "Guard-Captain Aveline," she announced, and bowed before leaving.

Aveline looked annoyed, armor clanking as she climbed the stairs. "Hawke."

"Give me some good news," Hawke said, settling back in his chair, one arm draped over the back of it.

Fenris looked up at her hopefully.

"You owe me big time for this."

Hawke shrugged. "We'll call it even after the work I did on those raiders up the coast last week."

Aveline's cheeks went pink and she folded her arms. "Fine. But we're hardly square."

"Put it on my tab. What do you have for me?"

"Tevinter law is clear. You own everything Danarius had. I've already sent the papers in for a list of his assets. You're welcome, by the way," she said, but didn't wait for a response. "Regarding the slaves he owned, that's out of my jurisdiction, but as far as…" She waved a gauntleted hand at Anders. "Him. I managed to pull a few strings."

"Oh?"

"Even though you own an estate in Tevinter once the paperwork settles, you're not technically a resident there."

"I'm not moving to Tevinter," Hawke growled. "Get to the point."

Aveline huffed. "I talked to a couple of friends of mine and they made two suggestions. The first is that you officially register to one of the Tevinter Circles."

"That would make him a magister," Fenris said, fingers curling into a fist.

"And conveniently allow him to possess slaves in Kirkwall. Or one in particular," she said, nodding at Anders. "Without the repercussions of the anti-slavery laws in the Free Marches. And you would no longer be an apostate."

Hawke looked as if he'd rather swallow poison. "Great. Turn me into a slaver. That's exactly what I want. What's the other suggestion?"

Aveline at least looked relieved that Hawke wasn't quite willing to go that route. "It's a little more complicated and would involve a lot more paperwork. But if you were to follow the proper procedures to set him free under Tevinter law in the eyes of a judge, he would be an Imperial citizen."

"There's still the problem of his…" Hawke waved a hand, trying to find a way to describe the devastation Anders caused in the Hanged Man.

"He was still Danarius's slave then," Fenris said. "He can't be held responsible for what his master made him do. Look at the state of him." He remembered Sebastian's words. Sins committed under duress weren't the responsibility of those who'd carried out the deeds, but the ones who ordered them. That's what the Chantry believed. Would the law follow suit?

Aveline scowled. "It doesn't matter."

Hawke scoffed. "Yes it does. Aveline, you can't honestly think that Anders wanted to do all that. He's very clearly… Not… Not in his right mind," he finished, obviously uncomfortable with talking about Anders like he wasn't even in the room. But as Anders hadn't spoken a word to defend himself, Hawke took the responsibility.

"Hawke's right," Fenris said. "I… cannot say what Danarius did to him, but he's not how he was. And now that Hawke is his master-"

"Not by choice!" Hawke snapped.

"But legally," Fenris said, trying to appease him. The last thing he needed right now was Hawke angry with him. "Anders will only truly listen to him. It's worse than any reconditioning I've ever seen. And it's difficult to tell if it's magically induced or simply Danarius's influence."

"Someone needs to pay for the crimes committed," Aveline said stubbornly.

"Someone did," Hawke pointed out. "His body is in the morgue now. I put him there. Remember? This is how this mess spiraled out of control in the first place."

Fenris flinched at that. It was technically his own fault for asking for Hawke's help. And what if someone else had gotten the final killing blow upon Danarius? He would likely be sitting with them instead of Hawke. And would they be as gracious as Hawke? Or would they happily send Anders to the Circle? That would be the easy solution. Send the man to the Gallows, let Meredith deal with him. But despite everything, Hawke still saw a mage in trouble and though it was giving him a headache to deal with it, he seemed hell-bent on keeping Anders safe.

"If it holds up in court," Aveline said, "then I won't pursue it further. I'll speak with the magistrate."

"Not Vanard," Hawke said quickly.

Aveline rolled her eyes. "No. You're a pain in my ass Hawke, but I wouldn't try to wrangle a favor from a man who's been calling for your imprisonment for years."

Fenris remembered Vanard, but more accurately he remembered the magistrate's son. And plunging his fist deep into that bastard's chest to crush his heart. It was a quick death, quicker than the scum had deserved for what he'd done. He hadn't realized Vanard was still giving Hawke a hard time, but even that news couldn't stir one iota of regret for killing Kelder.

"So once I get the official deeds, then I file paperwork to set Anders free. That still makes him an apostate, right?"

Fenris watched Anders carefully, noticing how his shoulders shook a little at the word 'free'.

"He'd have to join a Tevinter Circle. His residence is in Minrathous so as long as his crimes are judged under his former master, he won't see the inside of a cell."

"Then he would be a magister," Hawke ventured, and looked to Fenris.

Fenris nodded slightly. It would be the final nail in the coffin of the broken promise.

"But there's no Tevinter law that says magisters have to own slaves or even live in the city, right? I mean, they're not restricted the way other Circle mages are," Hawke pressed.

"He would need to keep a residence there," Aveline confirmed, "but otherwise, that's right."

Hawke snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Brilliant! So once I have the list of assets, I'll deal with liquidation other than the actual residence, then file for his freedom and process him into a Tevinter Circle."

"And where would he go then?" Fenris asked, eyes still on Anders. Neither Aveline nor Hawke seemed to notice he'd started breathing quite heavily, and Fenris stood, intent on going to him.

Anders threw himself at Hawke's feet, hands clasped in front of him. "Please, master!" he begged. "Please don't send me away! I promise I'll do anything you ask. Please, please don't free me."

Hawke, eyes wide and horrified, tried to push back away from Anders, and Fenris was by his side in a second, arms wrapping firmly around Anders' shoulders. He heard the wild desperation in his voice, was intimately familiar with the feeling of being tossed away.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Anders, calm down. No one's freeing you. Hawke is still your master."

Hawke opened his mouth to speak, but Fenris glared at him. Hawke returned the look, but Fenris didn't care so long as Hawke stayed silent. He pulled Anders into his chest, gently rubbing his back, ignoring the raised eyebrows from both Hawke and Aveline. He supposed his show of compassion for the broken man now crying into his shoulder was something neither of them had seen of him. To be fair, Fenris thought, he didn't have compassion for a lot of people, but Anders was different.

"I'm going to take him to the guest room," Fenris said. "You can sort this out between yourselves."

"Sure," Hawke agreed, seemingly relieved not to have to deal with any more outbursts of subservience.

Fenris stood, pulling Anders to his feet, keeping an arm around him as he led him away, ignoring Aveline's exasperated curses when she thought they were out of earshot. It was something Fenris had gotten used to. Years of people telling him how sorry they were, their words of sympathy when they learned he was a former slave. He dealt with the, "That must've been horrible for you,"s and the "I can't imagine what it's like"s and resisted the urge to kill them where they stood. They were hypocrites now, confronted by the true face of slavery. Though Hawke had helped Orana, it was largely Bodahn and his son and before her death even Hawke's mother who'd helped her acclimate to life as a servant rather than a slave. It was easy to deny slavery; it was difficult to have the patience to understand what it meant.

The Fog Warriors had largely been responsible for his own rehabilitation. Them and the man who was now clinging to him, fearful beyond reason at the prospect of being freed. It started with a cracking of his understanding of his own imprisonment. The idea that he could have more, that he was worthy of having more. Every kiss, every touch, it meant more to him than just physical comfort. Every book Anders read, every argument or discussion they had, it opened his eyes to the possibilities of freedom. And the Fog Warriors, who fought for their own freedom, to reclaim Seheron for their own, they understood. They listened to him. Pushed him to be his own person. It came crashing down in a night. It was so easy to backslide into the familiar ways. And while he was being rehabilitated, Anders was being conditioned.

Nearly a decade of it. And while Fenris was with Danarius longer than that, Anders was far more broken than he'd ever been. Fenris had no idea if it had something to do with the Fade spirit or if it was some type of blood magic Danarius used on Anders. But he knew he couldn't count on Hawke or Aveline or anyone else to help Anders. Let them deal with the paperwork and decide the legal fate while they ran and hid from real responsibility. This would be Fenris's atonement. He might not be able to stop Anders from becoming an official magister of the city, but he would make him understand that he was worthy of compassion, of friendship and loyalty. Just the same way Anders helped Fenris realize that.

He got him to the guest room and guided him to sit on the bed, arm still around him. The basin was removed along with their old clothes. Fenris made a mental note to tell Orana to burn the robes and collar. The first thing to do was to remove anything that reminded Anders he was a slave. He pulled a handkerchief from the drawer and slowly wiped Anders' tears away, then took him by the shoulders so he could look at him directly.

"I promise you," he said, and swallowed nervously. "I promise you I will take care of you, Anders."

"What… what about Master Hawke?" Anders said miserably. "He wants to… he wants to give me away. I didn't… I didn't do anything wrong."

"No. You didn't," Fenris assured him. "He is a weak man." A lie for the most part, but not in this. "He cannot truly help you. But I will. And I promise you that I will fix what's been done to you, even if I die doing it. Do you believe me?"

Anders looked at him with bloodshot eyes, sniffling. He nodded. "Yes."

"Will you wait here for me? I'll return in two minutes."

Anders nodded again. "All right," he said quietly.

Fenris kissed his forehead impulsively, as if the years that separated them melted away suddenly, and left. He tracked down the few things he needed and returned, setting them on the vanity. "Come here, please."

Anders stood and crossed the room, settling in the chair, facing the mirror.

"You no longer belong to Danarius, so we're going to remove his gifts. After that, we're going to put your hair how you used to prefer it. Do you remember?"

Anders frowned; Fenris watched his reflection in the mirror as he thought. "I… I don't know. I think so."

"Would you trust me?" Fenris asked, hands on his shoulders.

A pause as Anders drew his lower lip between his teeth, chewing on the skin before nodding. "Okay."

Fenris removed the earrings, five in all, and pocketed them. Technically they belonged to Hawke, but he would keep them for now. He picked up the brush and removed the tie from Anders' hair and slowly started to brush it out. Anders continued to stare face forward, not saying anything. Fenris parted it down the middle. He'd never cut hair before, but even a little change could be a big step. When he'd met Anders, it was roughly chin length, kept in a half ponytail. Now it was past his shoulders. Holding his breath, he started to cut.

Clumps of blond hair fell to the carpet and neither said a word as Fenris trimmed, trying to keep it even. Once he was satisfied, he brushed it out again and took a handkerchief to Anders' shoulders to remove the bristles. He stood behind him, fingertips pulling the strands of hair back from Anders' forehead. Anders closed his eyes, and Fenris allowed himself a small smile as his friend's expression went from pensive to relaxed. Parting the hair, he tied it back in a half ponytail, a few strands falling from it, framing his face.

"There. Do you remember?"

Anders opened his eyes again and reached up, feeling the absence of weight from the inches lost. He poked at the ponytail and touched the locks that escaped. His fingers trailed to his ears, frowning a bit. Fenris touched his shoulders, hands sliding to his neck, thumbs brushing against the skin.

"Oh," Anders breathed.

"What?" Fenris asked quietly.

"I remember…"

Anders' skin felt hot suddenly, blue cracks appearing in a flash. Fenris felt his markings burn as they flared in response. A memory clear as day filled his vision.

_Anders sitting in bed in front of him. Fenris massaging his shoulders. Both naked and slightly damp after bathing. Fingers pressing against skin, sliding against taut muscles. Anders' breathy moan, the desire to do_ more _but knowing how dangerous it would be._

"NO!"

Blue light flashed in a halo around Anders and Fenris was shoved back, white-hot pain searing his flesh. He blacked out a moment and when he came back, he looked around. Anders was gone. No, not gone, he realized as he pulled himself achingly to his feet. Curled up in the corner at the far side of the room, wedged between the wall and the armoire. Fenris pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, a ringing in his ears.

"What was _that_?" he gasped, lurching a bit, stepping slowly toward Anders. He knelt down a few feet away, reaching out a hand. "Anders?"

Anders looked up, terrified. "It's… it was…"

"What?" Fenris prompted, as gently as he could, despite his own confusion and worry.

Anders swallowed, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. "Justice."


	7. Chapter 7

It took Fenris the better part of an hour to coax Anders from the corner, assuring him that he wouldn't do anything to anger Justice. It was a bit of hollow promise, as he wasn't sure exactly what triggered the spirit in the first place. So instead he sat with him on the floor, both leaning against the bed with a sizable space between them. Anders pulled his knees up to his chest, gripping them tightly. Fenris frowned, watching his knuckles turn white.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Anders shook his head violently.

Fenris drew in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, trying to calm down. His markings itched, but he didn't feel the pain of it, like it had been initially. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but very distracting. Since learning how to read, he attempted to research the process. Unfortunately and quite predictably information on the ritual was non-existent outside of Tevinter. The replies he received from Circles around Thedas to letters he'd written inquiring about the effects of lyrium contained nothing he didn't already know. And Hawke hadn't been able to provide anything other than guesswork. If he wanted knowledge, he would have to send for information from Tevinter. Now that Danarius was dead, perhaps he could do that without fear of alerting him.

"Does it have to do with Danarius? And how he managed to control you and the spirit?"

"Justice doesn't like you very much," Anders said. "When you left us that night, he was furious."

Lovely. Not only would he be alone in his rehabilitation of Anders, he would be contending with a Fade spirit the entire way. "Why?"

Anders shook his head again and pursed his lips.

"You're scared of him? Of Justice? That's why you won't say?"

Anders nodded.

"Then we'll talk of other things," Fenris sighed, leaning his head back against the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Do you remember how we used to fight together? In Danarius's courtyard? That week in Minrathous at the Provings?" His eyes trailed the pattern on the tiles, concentric squares in alternating dark and light greys. The exercise of tracing the lines helped to keep him calm and focused on his task. Losing his patience would be detrimental and possibly trigger another outburst.

"No."

"Try to remember. The weather was crisp. And the first time you saw the Proving Grounds, you were… almost happy. Perhaps the happiest you were the entire time you were a slave."

"Master Danarius made me happy. And I failed him. I was supposed to keep him alive."

Fenris hated the remorse in his tone. _Twelve squares in all from large to small. Fourteen tiles across, fourteen tiles deep._ He knew there was an easy mathematical equation to figure out how many squares in all in the room, but his prowess with numbers was even more laughable than his writing. A warrior only needed to know how many enemies he could cut down before he fell, how many rounds in a fight. Beyond that, numbers were a mystery to him. But wondering about the equation helped.

"He failed you, Anders," Fenris said, his tone neutral. "A master's job is to make sure his slaves remain useful. What would be the point otherwise?"

"No. I let the shield fall. It was my fault. He shouldn't have been in danger."

"He was distracted. By me. That gave Hawke enough time to cast the spell that took his life. That's not your fault, Anders. And even if it was, it's good he's dead."

Anders shifted to his knees, resting his cheek against the side of the bed now, one hand clutching the blanket. Fenris looked over at him, seeing that wide-eyed look of fear. He reached up slowly, the back of his own hand sliding along the fabric, fingertips brushing gently against Anders' hand.

"It's good," he repeated.

"Master Hawke is a better master?" Anders asked carefully, uncurling his fist, fingers twining with Fenris's.

"No master is the best of all."

Anders flinched, pulling back. "No."

"I used to feel the same way. But it was your encouragement that made me see I was wrong. That I was stronger than I thought I was." He flexed his fingers, and smiled ever so slightly when Anders relaxed, tracing the lines on his palm. His markings glowed very faintly with the contact. "I'd like to help you," Fenris whispered. "But I… I don't know how."

Anders continued to trace his markings, up his wrist, over his arm. Anyone else and Fenris would have them by the throat, threatening evisceration. But he watched Anders' eyes, the mage looking at him with rapt fascination. The lyrium pulsed and ebbed every few seconds, and Fenris remembered the comforting feeling of Anders lying next to him in bed after a day of training. Lost briefly in his memories, he didn't realize until it was too late that Anders was lowering his head. He felt the scrape of teeth against his skin and his heart sped up.

"Anders, what are you-" He cut off with a pained cry as Anders bit him hard, breaking skin, and tried to pull away. "Stop!"

But Anders' mouth was firmly attached to his arm, his markings flaring painfully, burning his skin. Anders had his arm in a tight grip, sucking deeply and despite the pain, Fenris felt a surge of arousal. He shoved at Anders' head, and Anders looked up, pale blue light flooding his eyes. Blood and lyrium dripped from his lips.

"Stop!" he begged, unable to pull away, feeling Anders' fingers biting into his arm.

A pounding on the door a second before it was kicked in. Hawke, who'd apparently heard the cries, or perhaps felt the energy that was nearly palpable in the room now, surveyed the scene. Anders immediately dropped Fenris's arm and Fenris scrambled away, uncomfortably aware of his own erection and bleeding arm. Anders moved to a kneeling position, eyes down. Hawke looked from Fenris to Anders, then back to Fenris, completely bewildered.

"Do I even want to know just what in the name of Maker is going on here?"

Fenris shook his head. "I don't know, Hawke." He winced, looking down at his arm. The lyrium lines were broken, skin smudged with blood. He could just make out Anders' bite mark. "Something's very wrong."

"Obviously."

Fenris glared at him, in no mood for his sarcasm right now. "I believe Danarius corrupted the spirit inside him." He couldn't be sure if this was true, but it was the logical conclusion.

Hawke frowned. "Are you bleeding?"

"It's not bad," Fenris said, leaning heavily on the bed to pull himself to his feet. It stung, but the burning pain from his markings dissipated.

Hawke crossed the room, peering at the bite. He looked down at Anders. "Why did you do that?"

"I… I didn't mean to hurt him. The lyrium." Anders was trembling, tensing, as if he expected Hawke to hit him.

"Heal him."

"Yes, Hawke," Anders said and got to his feet. His chin was still covered in blood, lips shining. He raised a hand and a warm blue light moved from his palm to Fenris's arm.

Fenris felt the pull of magic, skin tingling as the wound scabbed over, then faded. The lyrium lines were lighter where Anders had bitten him.

Hawke sighed. "So what do we do now?"

Fenris rubbed absently at the healed skin. "If it was simple reconditioning, I would be adequate for the task." Through his own slow acceptance of his freedom, he was sure he would be able to guide Anders as well. But if Justice was controlling his actions, Fenris was as lost as Hawke looked. "I need to speak with Sebastian." He reached up and wiped his own blood from Anders' chin, rubbing his palm on his tunic after. Anders didn't react.

"Do you think Choir Boy really has the answers on this one? No offense, but I don't see the Maker having much of an input here."

Fenris frowned. "No, but he can contact someone for me. With Danarius dead, sending inquiries to the Imperium won't result in bringing down his wrath. Anders is an anomaly there, but perhaps someone knew what Danarius was doing to him. Sebastian put me in touch with someone who can write Tevene."

"All right," Hawke agreed, realizing the severity of the situation. "But will they really help a former slave? If you write to these magisters, who's to say they'll even care?"

Fenris's lip curled into a smirk. "I'll simply tell them I'm writing on your behalf. Word of Danarius's death will reach the Magisterium soon enough. They'll believe it. Your name is already all over the Free Marches."

Hawke looked hesitant. "I don't…"

"Hawke," Fenris snapped. "I understand this is a difficult situation." He tried to keep his anger in check. Yelling at Hawke when he needed his help would only drive the man away. "Until we can figure out what's causing this problem with the Fade spirit, Anders will continue to act the way he is. I can continue to try to assist him, but…" He looked down at his arm, then back to Hawke. "I don't believe the spirit will let me."

"So if I don't let you use my name, you can't fix him?"

"Fix," Fenris spat.

"Maybe not the best word to use."

"Oh, do you think so?" Fenris said bitterly, taking a protective step toward Anders. "No, I won't be able to _fix_ him. As if he's a toy that Danarius played too roughly with."

Hawke ran a hand through his hair and sighed, looking around uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted. And?"

Hawke nodded. "All right. Write your letters. Aveline just left, we're getting the paperwork started. She's not taking him to a cell tonight, thank the Maker, but how do we… What comes next?"

"He'll stay here. With you."

"Me? Why?" Hawke demanded, sounding nervous. "He likes you. He can go with you."

"Because he perceives you as his master. And I may not be able to stop him if he… if the spirit decides to emerge. And I've no wish to be exsanguinated in my sleep."

"Why did he bite you anyway?"

"Ask him."

Hawke looked at Anders, who was still standing, head down. "Anders."

"Yes, Hawke."

"Why did you bite Fenris?"

"Justice wanted his lyrium."

"Well," Hawke said, hands on his hips now. "Well that's just peachy, isn't it? Why?"

"He won't say."

Fenris grunted. "Danarius kept cuffs on him that dampened his magic and held the spirit at bay. It seems he found another way to control him. Without Danarius, the spirit has become unpredictable. Anders can't be held responsible for that. He seemed… terrified."

Hawke frowned, stepping forward. "Anders? Look at me."

Anders looked up, a speck of blood at the corner of his lips.

"Are you scared of Justice?"

Amber eyes widened and Fenris recognized the fear that had driven the mage to the corner the first time Justice emerged. He trembled slightly and Fenris put a hand on his shoulder to try to calm him.

Hawke shook his head. "That answers that question. Maker's breath," he sighed. "I suppose I've got no choice. He'll stay here in the guest room. Do you want to stay too?" he asked Fenris.

Fenris frowned. Staying might bring back more memories for Anders, and he wasn't entirely sure if that was a smart decision. And he did tell Sebastian he would speak with him. But would it be smart to leave Anders alone with Hawke in this state? "I will… return tonight."

Hawke seemed relieved. "Good. I'll have Bodahn leave the door unlocked so just come in. Help yourself to a guest room."

"What will you do with Anders for now?"

Hawke shrugged. "There's the library, I guess. He can read, right?"

Fenris scowled, arms crossing. "Yes. He can read. He's also in the room if you want to talk to him about himself. I'm leaving." He took a step, but Hawke caught him with a broad palm to his chest.

"Don't be a pain in my ass, Fenris," Hawke said, glaring down at him. "This isn't easy."

"Oh yes," Fenris retorted, "I forgot how difficult this is for _you_." He shoved Hawke's hand away and stalked out.

It was dark now, a chilly wind picking up and rustling the too-large tunic. He considered stopping by his mansion to change, but he'd kept Sebastian waiting long enough. Climbing the steps to the chantry building, he ignored the stares of the people heading in the opposite direction. Inside it was quiet, the candlelight flickering, casting shadows on the walls. He felt exposed without a cloak and hood, and regretted coming here directly.

"Serah?"

Fenris almost didn't turn, but the chantry was nearly empty so the voice must have been addressing him. He turned cautiously, relaxing when he saw a young woman, a Chantry sister, coming down the side staircase.

"Are you Serah Fenris?"

As if there was more than one white-haired lyrium tattooed elf that would be wandering around Hightown and in the chantry that evening. "Yes," he answered simply.

"Brother Sebastian said you'd be coming tonight and to bring you to him."

"…Very well," Fenris assented.

He followed the nervous girl upstairs to a part of the chantry he'd never seen. Three flights of stairs and several hallway turns later and she stopped in front of an unremarkable door in a corridor lined with other unremarkable doors. A moment later and it opened, Sebastian appearing with a towel wrapped around his bare shoulders. His ruddy hair hung damp, and Fenris noticed the Chantry sister averted her eyes at once, a slight pink tinge in her cheeks.

"Oh, thank you Sister Amelia," he said, opening the door a bit wider for Fenris to come in.

Amelia said something unintelligible and quickly left, Fenris raising an eyebrow as he stepped inside the room. It was spartan, just a single slim bed with a modest iron frame, a scrubbed wooden dresser, and a beaten up old armchair. On the dresser sat a few half melted candles and a small clay statue of Andraste. A locket Fenris recognized as always being around Sebastian's neck sat at the base. Sebastian took it up now, tossing the towel aside and put it on.

"I tried talking to Aveline but she was close-mouthed about the goings on with your, er. Friend," he said, unsure. He gestured to the chair. "I'd appreciate an explanation."

Fenris thanked him and sat on the edge, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. "It's being handled legally by Aveline and Hawke. Anders is going to remain at Hawke's estate and if there's a trial, I'm sure they'll want your testimony."

"I'd be glad to be of service. But Fenris, that's not what I meant."

Fenris watched him pull a shirt from the dresser and pull it on before sitting on the bed across from him. He sighed, unsure of how much he wanted to tell Sebastian. "We are friends, yes?"

"Of course."

"Then I will not lie to you. However, for Anders' safety, I can't discuss what I believe happened to him. He's going to need a lot more help than I can provide, though. I need to send letters to Tevinter."

Sebastian frowned. "I'd like to help you, Fenris. You can trust me. I wouldn't endanger him. I want to help him."

"Putting him in the Gallows isn't going to help him." It would be the easy path just to hand Anders over, to let him be someone else's problem. But Fenris wouldn't betray him. He owed Anders that much, owed him a chance. "If it was a solution to consider, I would have suggested it to Hawke immediately. But Anders is damaged deeply and he needs help. Did you talk to the Grand Cleric?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Sebastian met his gaze. "No," he said evenly. "But the Knight-Commander will know about him before the week is out, I'm sure of it. Elthina will likely ask questions once she learns of my involvement and I'd like not to lie to her."

"Then don't lie," Fenris said simply. "If you can't or won't help me, I'll talk to Varric." As much as he would hate to ask the dwarf for another favor after the disastrous day, Fenris had the coin to buy his favor. Or rather, Hawke did.

Sebastian sat back against the wall, crossing his legs. His hand moved up, fingering the locket against his chest as he sighed, looking at the statue on his dresser. "Of course I'll help you," he said at last. "I'll send the translator to your residence."

"Hawke's," Fenris corrected. "If you wouldn't mind. I think I may be staying there a few days to help."

"How bad is it for your friend?"

"It's… very bad," Fenris admitted. "I'm hoping someone in Tevinter has answers. If it was just the results of Danarius's depravity, it would be difficult but not impossible."

"Nothing's impossible, Fenris."

Fenris sneered. "Not with the Maker by my side?"

Sebastian smiled softly. "If not the Maker, then would you believe with friends by your side?"

"Possibly," he said, thinking about Hawke's awkwardness around Anders.

"Fenris, it's not my place to judge him. Only the Maker can do that. But if you'll allow me to help you, if you wish my help, I'll give it."

"And the backlash of assisting an illegal mage?"

"I don't believe that Aveline will allow him to remain so. In the meantime, he's not breaking any of Kirkwall's laws or laws of the Chantry, is he?"

_Aside from harboring a Fade spirit in his soul, no._ Fenris's lips twisted into something between a smirk and a sneer. "For now, just the translator," he said. "This isn't something that's going to be fixed with prayer."

"Regardless," Sebastian said, unfolding his legs and standing as Fenris got to his feet, "I will pray for him. And for you if you'd allow it."

Fenris nodded, tight-lipped. He wasn't sure it would help, but it couldn't hurt. He had no idea if the Maker would even listen. "I'll be in touch."

Sebastian walked him to the door. "Take care of yourself Fenris. If you need anything, my door is always open."

Fenris didn't say anything, merely nodded again, and left.


	8. Chapter 8

Fenris woke with a start. For a minute he forgot where he was, the mattress underneath him too soft, the blanket too warm. Then he remembered. Hawke's estate. He'd returned late in the night after gathering some of his things from his own residence. Orana was still awake, apparently for the sole purpose of waiting up for him. Fenris followed her to the guest wing and fell asleep not too long after dropping into bed.

But something had woken him. He couldn't have gotten more than two or three hours of sleep. But his heart wasn't racing and he didn't remember dreaming so it hadn't been a nightmare. Had it? And then he heard it again, the noise that must've driven him from sleep. A plaintive cry as if someone being attacked. He quickly rolled out of bed and pulled on his smallclothes, grabbing the two handed greatsword he'd left propped against the nightstand. In the hall, he heard it much clearer coming from the room across from his. Anders.

Carefully he pushed open the door and slid inside. Anders tossed and turned under the linens, but didn't seem to be awake. To further his relief, Fenris didn't see any light blue cracks in his skin either. Cautiously, shutting the door behind him, he stepped forward. Anders stilled for a moment, then threw an arm up over his head before kicking out. He muttered something incomprehensible and cried out. Fenris settled his sword against the wall before moving to the bed, one knee resting on the mattress as he leaned over to take hold of his shoulders.

"Anders, wake up."

Anders whimpered, face twisted in pain. "No… no, muh…"

"Anders!" Fenris said firmly.

Anders' eyes shot open, staring at Fenris a moment as if he couldn’t see him. "Stop!"

"You're all right, Anders. Look at me," Fenris said. _Tell me how to help you._ "You're having a nightmare."

"Nightmare?" Anders asked, blinking. "No. It was…"

"Demons?"

Anders shook his head.

"Darkspawn?"

Another negative shake.

"Tell me."

"Stay with me, Fenris."

Fenris wasn't sure if Anders was having a moment of clarity or a flashback to their time in Alam. When they were together there, he would often wake in the middle of the night to a kick to his shin as Anders tossed and turned. He never blamed him for it, just calmed him down, held him until they fell back asleep. It seemed that the nightmares hadn't faded, and he felt guilty as he slid into bed next to Anders. Anders immediately turned into his embrace. Fenris gently stroked his back, eyes closing, feeling warm with the familiarity of it.

He'd dozed, moving in an out of consciousness like the tide of the Waking Sea. Anders had barely moved since dropping back off to sleep, making small content noises whenever Fenris moved his fingers against his back or his arm. He wanted to ask him again what the nightmares were about, but Anders wasn't inclined to tell him, and he didn't want to press lest he incite Justice's wrath. 

Fenris woke again when the sun started to rise, filling the room with a warm, quiet light. Anders shifted, twitching a little. Fenris yawned and looked down, watching as eyelids flickered under golden-brown lashes. Anders was dreaming. Fenris felt warm puffs of breath against his clavicle and flinched as Anders thrust his hips forward, cock pressing against his thigh where it slowly hardened.

 _Of course we've moved on from nightmare into sexual dreams._ He sighed, wondering if he should wake his friend now or let him sleep for a few more hours. For as long as Fenris had known Hawke, the man never seemed to inclined to wake before the sun had fully risen for at least two hours, and certainly dawn was a time he'd never seen from this side of the day. Anders let out a soft whimper, a noise that went to Fenris's own groin and he ignored it. Only a depraved sadist would take advantage of someone like Anders in as vulnerable a position as he was in.

"Anders," he said gently, sliding away from him. His arm had fallen asleep from the weight of Anders laying on it. "Wake up."

Anders rolled toward him, wrapping a leg around his and continued to thrust, rocking his hips slowly, whining in his sleep. Fenris felt annoyance and irritation unfurling in his chest. Neither emotion were directed at the man curled around him, using him to supplement a very pleasant dream, however. He was angry at Danarius. Angry at Hawke. And if he was being honest, angry with himself as well. This would be a long and tiresome process and he was almost entirely alone. He could trust Hawke not to take advantage of Anders. If nothing else, the man wasn't lacking moral or physical strength. But emotionally Hawke was wildly unprepared. He knew anger and sarcasm, both of which he was annoyingly good at. But crying women? Weak-willed men? Hawke ran for the hills every time.

Thinking about Hawke at least helped him keep his own arousal in check as Anders _pressed_. There was a slight dampness against his thigh as the tip of Anders' erection dragged against the skin. His fingers gripped Fenris's side, nails digging in, stinging slightly. He slowed in his movements, then sped up considerably as the dream continued. Fenris huffed, slightly embarrassed at letting himself be used this way. If it was anyone else, he'd consider it demoralizing, a throwback to his own time with Danarius. A shuddering breath broke over his chest and Fenris scoffed as Anders came, a slimy warmth against his thigh. Thankfully Anders didn't wake, his body going slack. Fenris was able to slide out from his grasp and clean up, tossing the cloth in the wastebasket before settling back into bed, Anders' back to his chest as he held him in a loose embrace. 

He fell asleep one more time and when he opened his eyes again finally, he was alone. Stretching, he yawned widely before sitting up. The sun spilled into the room, irritatingly bright. He'd been slipping in his routine, skipping morning exercises in order to attend to Hawke on some errand or another. By the time evening came he was too tired or too drunk to worry about it. Despite that, he maintained his lithe, muscled form, and easily took up his sword before moving into the hallway to look for Anders.

"Oh there you are."

Fenris turned to see Hawke at the mouth of the corridor. "Hawke."

"Remind me to skip this part when Varric angles for details. 'Brooding elf wandering the Hawke estate in his smalls carrying a sword' doesn't make for the most scintillating story. Even if you were coming from Anders' guest room."

Fenris arched an eyebrow. "You're perverse."

"Probably," Hawke agreed. "Speaking of, he's in the library. He came into my bedroom this morning and laid out an outfit. You know how unnerving it is to wake up and see someone kneeling by your bedside?"

"No. I cannot say I do," Fenris said through gritted teeth. If he wasn't already familiar with Hawke's unintentional callousness he might have been tempted to slice him in two right there.

Hawke seemed to realize his mistake. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't think…"

"You often don't," Fenris grunted. He let Hawke stew a moment. "It's fine."

Hawke relaxed. "So what next?"

Fenris tried to conjure up some sympathy for Hawke. In the last twenty-four hours he seemed to have lost his careful control. Usually a very composed man, it was difficult seeing him so unsure. "Sebastian's sending a translator so I can have letters written and sent to Tevinter. I think I might know someone who can help us. Though I'm unsure what his price would be for his help."

"If he wants gold, I'll pay it."

The immediate and confident response drew a slight smile from Fenris. "More likely he'd ask for a favor. Magisters have very little need of coin, having an abundance of it themselves."

"Like… sexual favor?"

Fenris groaned. "No, Hawke. You're the Champion of Kirkwall. More like a political favor. I'm going to get dressed and then we can continue this."

"I'll have Orana bring breakfast."

Fenris let himself into his own guest room and dressed before joining them in the library. A pot of coffee caught Fenris's eye first and he helped himself while Hawke sat answering letters, a pastry in his other hand. Fenris poured himself a cup before looking at Anders, who was sitting in an armchair, looking at Hawke, waiting.

"Hawke," Fenris said, settling across from them.

Hawke scratched out another few words before grunting.

"I realize this is inconvenient for you, but Anders won't eat unless you give him leave to."

Hawke looked up. "What?"

"Anders hasn't eaten."

Hawke looked at Anders, who tilted his head slightly, waiting for orders. "Uh. You can eat. If you want. Anything at all. You don't need to wait for me to tell you."

"Thank you, Hawke."

They watched Anders lean over and butter a roll, nibbling on it quietly. Hawke looked at Fenris with pleading eyes. Fenris sipped his coffee, contemplating. Hawke shifted uncomfortably and popped the last of the pastry in his mouth before turning back to the writing desk and his letters.

"Anders," Fenris said carefully.

Anders looked up; Hawke's pen stopped.

"Have you had any contact with Magister Faustinus?"

Anders looked over at Hawke, who nodded. "Yes. Master Danarius invited him to Minrathous every Summerday celebration to discuss profits."

"The deal continued?" Fenris asked, shaking his head at Hawke who looked at him questioningly.

"Magister Faustinus wanted to compete in the Provings again so the debt was extended to fifteen years."

"Which means he would owe that money to Hawke now."

"Yes," Anders confirmed.

Hawke set aside the writing desk. "Anyone care to fill me in?"

Fenris pursed his lips, thinking. "Mm. I think we might have a solution." He leaned forward to top off his coffee. "Danarius trumped Faustinus in the Provings."

"You mean like dwarven Provings?" Hawke asked.

"They're a big deal in Minrathous," Fenris explained. "After all, the magisters need to get their lyrium from somewhere. Dwarves have several embassies in Tevinter. It's natural the cultures would assimilate. And magisters enjoy their bloodshed. Hence, Provings. Slaves and free men alike compete for glory and riches for their houses. Several years ago, Anders and I won and the result was a percentage of Faustinus's intake from his vineyard and a restriction for him to not fight again for a decade. Apparently the deal changed."

"This magister, do you trust him?"

Fenris scoffed. "No. Only a fool would trust a magister. But if he wants to stop paying out to Danarius's estate – yours now – he'll help."

"What was the payout?" Hawke asked.

Fenris shrugged and looked to Anders, who named a very substantial fee.

Hawke let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of money."

Fenris growled over his coffee mug. "Hawke."

"But the favor is worth more at this point," Hawke amended.

"I'll write to him specifically. If no one else answers, there's a good bet he will, if only to get out of the deal he made with Danarius." Fenris didn't relish the idea of speaking with any magister, but Faustinus was as innocuous as they came. Content to remain in Solas and collect favors, cashing them in at opportune times. And he had seemed to be fond of his slaves, not that that was any indication of the man having good character. A magister was a magister no matter the sympathies. "We may have to speak with him face to face."

Hawke huffed, but didn't argue. "Invite him here if you think he can help."

Fenris scowled, looking down at his mug. As much as he hated the idea of it, having Faustinus come to Kirkwall was better than the alternative of traveling to Tevinter. Though Solas was still miles from Minrathous and Qarinus, far away from any substantial Imperial city, returning to the Imperium was not something Fenris desired. He visited often enough in his nightmares.

Bodahn interrupted with a swift knock on the door. "A visitor for Messere Fenris."

Fenris looked up. The translator. He waved him in and with Hawke's approval, they managed to pen half a dozen letters to various estates across Tevinter, including a lengthy one to Magister Faustinus Scaevola of Solas. Hawke thanked the translator and paid him, giving the letters to Bodahn to send out. Orana cleared the breakfast dishes and Hawke stood, scratching at his beard.

"I have to see Orsino about something. Fenris, you think you could…" He gestured at Anders, who was sitting patiently, looking up at him.

"Is he not allowed to leave the estate?" Fenris asked. He'd agreed to help rehabilitate Anders, but it seemed as if Hawke was trying to stay as far away from him as possible.

"You want me to take him to the Gallows with me?"

Fenris narrowed his eyes. "I want you to stop talking about him as if he's an inconvenient pet," he said quietly. "One that you'd rather have someone else look after. Like a stray dog you found in an alley and suddenly realize you can't take care of."

"You know what, Fenris?" Hawke said, pointing at him. "I never wanted this. So maybe you could just start cutting me a little slack."

Fenris stood, taking three steps right into Hawke's personal space, that finger now jabbing him in the chest. Though he had to look up, he knew he cut an intimidating figure, even to Hawke. "I've seen you cut down dozens of slavers, condemn the act, and now here you are faced with some of the very worst results and you're telling me you want slack," he said, his tone sharp. "No. Either you're going to help him or you might as well hand him over to Faustinus or another magister."

"Why don't I just hand him over to you since you seem so eager to have him back? Seriously, Fenris, you were leaving his room in your smalls and you claim you have his best interests at heart. If you want to fuck him-"

"How _dare_ you," Fenris snarled, shoving Hawke's hand away and grabbing him by the front of his shirt.

Fenris felt the magic in the air, his skin stinging with the sudden burst of energy and he was thrown forcibly from Hawke, back slamming against a bookshelf. He raised his arm, shielding himself from the avalanche of books. Amidst the tumult he heard Hawke yelling, and realized it was Anders, not Hawke, who'd attacked him. Pride thoroughly bruised along with his arm and back, he extricated himself from the pile and brushed himself off.

"I'm sorry!" Anders was saying, on his knees now in front of Hawke, who looked once again repulsed by his submissiveness. "Please forgive me, please!"

"Andraste's tits, Anders, stand up!" Hawke said, dragging him to his feet. "Stop! Just… stop it. You're not a slave anymore!"

Fenris hurried to his friend's side, watching as Anders trembled, eyes wide, breathing heavily. "Hawke! This isn't helping!"

"Do you think I don't know that!" Hawke shot back. "What the fuck am I supposed to do, Fenris?"

"Tell him you forgive him and promise him you won't throw him away."

Hawke looked at Anders, who was staring at him with wild-eyed panic. "It's okay. I forgive you. And I won't… I won't throw you away. Okay? I promise."

"Thank you, Hawke," Anders whispered, lowering his eyes.

Fenris watched as Hawke awkwardly embraced him, laying a tentative hand on Anders' back. "I am…" He frowned. "I am sorry, Hawke. This is going to be a lot more difficult than I first presumed."

Hawke looked at him over Anders' bent shoulder, an exasperated expression on his face. "So you think you maybe could have just a little bit of understanding from my point of view?"

"…Yes."

"Good. All right," Hawke sighed. "Are you hurt?"

Fenris felt where the shelf caught him mid-back and there was already a purplish bruise forming on his arm. "I'm fine."

"Good," Hawke said again. "And I'm… you know. Sorry about…"

"Implying that I wished to force myself upon Anders?"

"Yeah, that."

"Mm." Fenris wasn't quite willing to forgive him for that slight. Complicated as his feelings were for Anders both past and present, the man needed support and friendship now. Not someone he perceived to be his master putting thoughts like that into his head. "You need to take charge on this, Hawke. Like you do with everything else. It's in your nature to be a leader."

"Fenris…"

"Stop making excuses to push him aside because you're too frightened. You're stronger than that."

Hawke looked as if he wanted to punch Fenris. He held Anders at arm's length. "I… uh. Would you like a tour of Kirkwall?"

"Whatever you wish, Hawke," Anders replied.

Hawke looked to Fenris, who folded his arms, waiting. He sighed and looked back to Anders. "I want you to tell me what you'd like to do today. And you won't be punished for answering truthfully."

Anders shifted, uncomfortable with such a large decision. "I want… to come with you. And I want…" He hesitated, glancing to Fenris, then back to Hawke.

"Go ahead," Hawke said carefully.

"I want Fenris to come with us. Please," he added, before ducking his head.

Hawke looked back to Fenris. "Well?"

"If that's what he wants, I'll join you." He hadn't had anything else planned for the day except perhaps to stop by to see Varric and the others. He owed them his thanks once again, and perhaps to see what could be done regarding the damage to the Hanged Man.

"I guess we're going to the Gallows then," Hawke said with a sigh. "I hope we get answers soon. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

Fenris let out a derisive laugh, but said nothing. He wondered if Hawke knew just how difficult life was going to become.


	9. Chapter 9

It was past midnight by the time Fenris arrived home. He'd been staying at Hawke's estate more and more lately and missed the solitude of his own space. Over a month since they'd written for assistance and they'd received no word yet from Tevinter. Today's latest argument with Hawke revolved around simply packing up and heading to Solas for answers. Fenris was anxious as Hawke was to get Anders help, but marching back into Tevinter was very low on the list of things he was willing to do to achieve that. He tossed his gauntlets down and picked up a dusty wine bottle, pulling the cork with an angry grunt and downed the contents in several large swigs.

To his credit, Hawke was at least trying. The paperwork from Minrathous came back and Anders was officially a free man under the capital's Circle. Hawke paid Varric to send a few Carta dwarves that way to strip the estates and liquidate the assets. Fenris went over the list of house slaves, recognizing a few names from when he lived there. He advised setting all of them free and providing them with a stipend to get them on their feet. They weren't warriors, they were cooks and chambermaids. Their skills wouldn't allow them more than a few positions, but with Hawke's letters of recommendation, they might find work in Nevarra or Orlais.

They'd decided not to yet tell Anders of his freedom. There was no telling how he might react, and to confirm his fears might cause more problems. It was a difficult decision and not one Fenris arrived at lightly. That also ended in a fight resulting in Fenris's broken arm when Anders stepped in once again to defend Hawke. Thankfully Hawke had him heal it before Fenris stormed out and didn't return for three days.

Anders was frustrating. Not his rehabilitation process, but how differently he reacted to them. When they were together the three of them, Anders all but ignored Fenris even when Hawke told him to speak his mind. But while Anders didn't seem to care to converse with him, he requested Fenris come with them whenever they left the estate. And when they were alone? There were times when Fenris swore he was getting through to him, having normal conversations about Kirkwall. But then Justice would emerge and Anders would go quiet for hours at a time.

He found himself returning and remaining more and more at Hawke's estate and despite everything, inevitably finding himself in Anders' bed. Hawke's words continued to float back to him and Fenris wondered if he was fooling himself. There was comfort to find sleeping next to his friend, holding him or being held by him. But he'd always been physically drawn to the mage. Anders was the first who didn't make his markings hurt when he touched them. And despite their less than pleasant start, he had grown very fond of Anders. Did he love him? As a friend, definitely. But more than that?

He cursed in frustration and threw the bottle into the cold fireplace. Staying in was doing him no good. Returning to Hawke's estate now would be an act of desperation. He needed something else. Grabbing his cloak and hood he left, his feet beating the familiar path to the chantry. At this hour the main hall was empty, the candles all but burned out. He didn't bother going upstairs to his normal pew, and instead stalked up to the dais where he knelt down in front of Andraste, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs.

"Tell me what I should do," he muttered. "You freed the slaves. I need your help."

Of course she didn't answer him. He listened to the silence and lowered his head. It was perhaps ten minutes he knelt there, resting on his heels, waiting for some divine answer, for someone to tell him what to do. Footsteps echoed behind him and he tensed, hand on the pommel of a dagger he kept at his side. He felt uncomfortable bringing his greatsword into the chantry, but even more uncomfortable coming in unarmed. A figure knelt beside him, hands clasped in prayer and he glanced sidelong.

"Sebastian."

"Fenris. I haven't seen you in a while."

"How did you know I was here?"

Sebastian smiled and reached out, lighting four candles that had gone out. "I figured you would turn up sooner or later."

"I've… been busy."

"I'm not criticizing you," Sebastian said gently. "It's good to see you again. How are things?"

Fenris scowled. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Did you want to talk?"

Fenris shrugged. "Things are becoming… complicated."

"How so?"

Fenris wasn't sure what he should divulge, if anything. He'd never questioned himself as much as he'd had since taking his freedom and fleeing Seheron. It was always about survival, about getting away and staying head of Danarius. It was never about figuring out his feelings. As a slave, he was told how to feel, what to do. Freedom of emotion was something Anders pressed upon him. "It… is not important."

"Well, if it's bothering you enough that it has you seeking guidance at Andraste's feet, it certainly seems important."

"Sebastian, I'm… not sure I'm the right person to help Anders anymore."

"I see. Why?"

"I have… I believe…" He faltered. He couldn't tell Sebastian. Hawke had accused him twice of having more than friendly feelings for Anders.

But Sebastian wasn't oblivious, of course he wasn't. He was a man, one with a reputation Fenris understood to be near legendary in the Free Marches before he joined the Chantry. He sighed lightly and looked up at Andraste before turning back to Fenris.

"Temptations of the flesh are momentary distractions from the larger picture."

Fenris scowled. "It's more than that."

"Oh, I see." Sebastian settled back, sitting now with his knee bent, the other stretched out in front of him. "Did these feelings start in Tevinter? Or do you think maybe you're simply reacting to the overwhelming notion of having to be responsible for him until he's able to take his freedom for himself?"

Fenris shook his head. "It's not as simple as either."

"I'd expect not."

"He helped me. I think more than I knew at the time. Not just to realize that I didn't have to be a slave, but he was my first… I suppose… friend. We didn't get along very well at first. But eventually… He was a constant. Someone who was there always. Someone I could count on to have my back. And now I can't even raise my voice to Hawke without ending up bruised or worse." He peeled back his cloak to show Sebastian his arm, a light blue bruise that was starting to fade into greenish-yellow.

Sebastian tutted in sympathy. "But you don't blame him for that."

"Of course not," Fenris replied. "He's doing what he was trained to. When Hawke isn't around, he's different. Almost like his old self that I remember. At least… until the memories resurface, I think. Something triggers and he snaps back to his reconditioned self." Fenris knew he was edging very close to lying to Sebastian, avoiding the reality of the spirit of Justice and the destruction it was capable of when pushed too close to remembering their former relationship.

"The Maker is testing you, Fenris. And I think you'll come through it. You won't take advantage of him. And once he's able to free himself from his chains, then you can work through those feelings together."

Fenris frowned. "You mean forget they ever existed."

"Not at all."

Fenris was confused. "Didn't you just say temptations of the flesh-"

Sebastian chuckled. "Yes. Well," he said, smiling. "Neither you nor Anders are Brothers of the Chantry, are you? If that's what you decide once you're both able to do so…"

"And it doesn't bother you?"

Sebastian tilted his head a bit, fixing Fenris with an appraising look. "Fenris, it is not my decision. If you're asking me for my _opinion_ -"

"I suppose I am," Fenris assented.

"The world is full of many wonders. Many people go their whole lives without friendship or love. Especially people who've had more trials than most, like you and Anders. The Maker put him on that boat for a reason. Perhaps it was to give you the strength to save yourself, to free yourself from Danarius when you did. And now the Maker's returned him to you so you can do the same. Perhaps it is fate or destiny that keeps bringing the two of you together. And if you fall in love, that's not a sin in the eyes of the Maker."

"Even if he's… and I'm…"

"Both male?" Sebastian guessed. "Or because you're an elf and he's human?"

"Both, I suppose," Fenris said. "I know there are not many who would bat an eye at the suggestion. But in the Imperium, relationships were less about love and friendship and more about power. Danarius never took a wife nor had any use for love. He would take sexual pleasure when he wanted it from…" He shook his head quickly, reburying those memories. "Political marriages were normal. Any coupling that could produce another mage was heralded as positive. Elves were only respected if they had magic and even then they never rose very high in the senate."

"You're not in Tevinter anymore," Sebastian said. "And neither of you are held up by the stigmas of your race. But I think you're getting ahead of yourself, hm? One step at a time."

Fenris huffed, annoyed. "We haven't heard a response from Tevinter yet. Without help, I don't know if we'll have insight to what Danarius did to Anders."

"Have you spoken with the First Enchanter?" Sebastian suggested.

Fenris thought of Orsino and shook his head. "Hawke doesn't wish to impose upon on him." That was yet another thing they discussed, but surprisingly had both agreed upon. Bringing any of the Kirkwall Circle into this affair was a bad idea. Meredith had gotten wind of Anders, but the law was clear and Anders belonged to the Circle in Minrathous. His crimes were cleared as acts performed under duress and with Hawke's help, he had refrained from further breaking Kirkwall's laws.

"How is Hawke handling things?"

"As well as could be expected under the circumstances."

"That's good."

They fell into silence, Fenris settling down, palm against the cool tiles as he scraped a fingernail against the grout. Sebastian stayed quiet, letting him think for a while.

"I think perhaps… once he's accepted his freedom, I might ask him to leave Kirkwall with me," Fenris said.

"Oh? And where you would go?" Sebastian asked curiously.

"He came from Ferelden before Tevinter. Maybe there."

"And what would you do?"

Fenris's lip curled into a smirk. "What we're good at."

"Hm?"

"Fighting. We were a team. We did well in the Provings together. Maybe we could travel. Be mercenaries. Compete for coin."

Sebastian smiled. "It sounds like an interesting life. Would you write?"

Fenris nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"I would be happy to live vicariously through you, my friend. I hope that whatever the Maker has planned for you, you're happy."

Fenris's smile faded. He cleared his throat and stood, helping Sebastian to his feet. "I'll see you soon."

"Take care, Fenris."

Fenris left the chantry, tugging his cloak around himself. His visits with Sebastian normally left him feeling better or at least less confused. This time, however… He frowned, head down as he walked slowly through the shadows. What did the Maker care about him? Sebastian said He helped, putting Anders on that slave ship. It seemed a cruel, roundabout way to win Fenris his freedom. Why put anyone else in danger in the first place? Why not just smite the magisters where they stood? Why have any pain or suffering or slavery at all? He stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led up to a row of mansions including the one he called home, and changed his mind and his direction.

Hawke's estate wasn't far away and it was likely that his door was open still. Fenris had once told him he should post guards but Hawke merely laughed it off. Burglars would be insane to try to break in. Everyone knew it was the Champion's house and everyone knew the Champion had a vicious marbari as well as being a capable mage. He was a block away, looking up at the wide windows when a burst of blue-white light lit up the top floor. Feeling a slight panic, he quickened his pace. The door flung open and Orana ran out, looking surprised but relieved to see him.

"Messere Fenris!" she squeaked. "Please help! It's Messere Hawke and Anders! In the master bedroom-"

Fenris didn't ask, just ran. He shoved the door open and took the stairs two at a time toward Hawke's bedroom. The door was splintered, hanging off a hinge. Beyond, the debris settled, a huge hole in the ceiling letting in moonlight. The fire was out, the bed was in pieces. Amidst it all lay Anders on his back, eyes filled with the fire of the Fade spirit while Hawke straddled him, pinning him down.

"What-" Fenris started.

Justice turned those bright blue eyes on him and Fenris felt his feet leave the floor, grunting as he was slammed against the wall. Hawke flew across the room, smacking against the wall and crumpling to the desk. Justice stood gracefully and stalked through the debris. Fenris struggled, but an invisible hand was keeping him pinned against the stone.

"Anders, stop!" Fenris pleaded, trying to reach the mage beneath the spirit. "What are you-"

Justice lowered his head, yanking the cloak away from Fenris and pulled the fabric of his tunic from his throat. Fenris felt the burning pain of his markings flaring as well as the sharp bite as Justice's mouth latched onto the point where his neck met his shoulder. He raised a hand, gripping Justice's shoulder, gasping as Justice thrust forward, pressing hip to hip. Fenris closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the pain and the pleasure that rolled through his body. Justice was feeding from the lyrium in his skin, hips rocking now against his and while Anders wasn't hard, Fenris was aching.

Hawke groaned and slowly sat up, his forehead bleeding. "Fenris. Anders! Stop!" He got shakily to his feet, sliding off the desk.

Justice pulled away, lips shining with blood and lyrium and he growled at Hawke. "Stay away," he commanded, in a voice so deep and powerful it almost seemed to shake the room. He bared his teeth, a terrifying expression coupled with the blue cracks in his skin and sheer power that radiated from him.

"Hawke," Fenris gasped. "Just stop."

"But he-"

"Don't move. I think he might kill you if you do."

Justice, satisfied that Hawke wasn't a threat, turned back to Fenris, pressing his nose to his neck, inhaling deeply before bringing up both palms to his chest. In a flash of light, Fenris felt his tunic tear, then disintegrate into pieces and Justice was licking along the lyrium lines, biting and leaving bruises. Justice growled when Hawke took a step, and resumed once more. They were between Hawke and the door. There was no way for Hawke to leave and Justice didn't seem inclined to let him get any closer. Fenris turned his head away from Hawke, not wanting to see his expression, and closed his eyes as Justice continued.

He had no idea what was happening, just that the spirit seemed content to be close to him. Or to his lyrium. Warm hands splintered with blue slight slid over his chest and he shivered involuntarily, unable to move away from the wall, held by a spell. Justice was almost gentle, nuzzling the lines, licking around one nipple, then another before kneeling. Fenris thought he heard Hawke whisper something – a prayer to the Maker? – and hoped the man had the decency to turn around. A second later his leggings joined his tunic and he was embarrassingly naked, pinned to a wall in Hawke's bedroom while this Fade spirit continued to molest him. He swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling. The same tiles as the guest room, and he started to silently count.

Hawke moved; a mistake. Justice's raw power surged through the room and he was thrown back again against the desk, a pained grunt and a colorful swear followed. Fenris was only relieved that Justice hadn't killed him. Then Justice's attention was back on him. Sharp teeth scraped against his hip, then his thigh and he cried out, head lolling forward as the skin broke. He opened his eyes to see Justice eagerly lapping from the wound, sucking the blood and lyrium quite happily. His cock ached to be touched, tip glistening, ready for attention, and Justice's mouth was just inches from it. He thought he might be insane to want something so dangerous so near his arousal, but he couldn't help it.

"No," Justice growled as Fenris lowered his hand.

His arms snapped to his sides, and Justice leaned up and licked his erection. Fenris's vision went white as he clenched his eyes shut, bursts of color popping behind his eyelids. He couldn't be sure of what he was saying, a babble of pleas breaking forth from his lips. His markings sang, glowing warm and tingling, pulsing with every bob of Justice's head. Fingers crackling with electricity dragged down his thighs and up again and he tried to thrust his hips toward that hot mouth. He wept, tears squeezing from his tightly shut eyes as he begged for release.

Shame and arousal mixed with desire and Fenris didn't care. Every muscle in him ached, wanting nothing more than to come when he felt a hand move up between his legs. He spread them wider and Justice's fingers were reaching back behind his sac, incomprehensibly slick but so warm. His leg was suddenly up and over Justice's shoulder, thigh resting as Justice took in his entire length. Fenris gasped, then howled, finger scrabbling at the stone as the Fade spirit pushed two of Anders' fingers inside him straight away. Burning hot pleasure-pain wracked his body and he trembled, begging him.

"No… please…, oh, yes… I want… I need… _Anders_ more, oh _yes_!"

He swore in Tevene as he pressed down, no longer pinned to the wall. His hands went right to Anders' head, gripping his hair as he rode Anders' fingers, caught between the stone and that cavernous mouth. He was so close, right there, just a little more, feeling fingers curling, wet hot suction surrounding him. He cried out and thrust forward, coming hard, then sobbed as another orgasm forced its way through his core immediately after the first. Legs quivering, he lost himself, tears streaking his cheeks. He opened his eyes briefly, peering through sweaty strands of his hair, looking down to see Justice staring up at him, blue eyes burning. He turned to look at Hawke, who immediately looked away, refusing to meet his gaze, and too tired, too spent to keep awake, fell unconscious.


	10. Chapter 10

When he woke, the predawn light filled the room, pale and grey. Groggily he opened one eye, then the other, vision blurry. Dust motes floated in front of him through the haze. His body ached, but it was relaxing, almost welcome. It reminded him when he spent all day going through his exercises, training for the Provings. He would wake sore but content and do it all over again. Now, he simply wanted to sleep more, lying on his stomach, face buried in his pillow. He couldn't move, he realized, a warm weight curled up half against him, half on top of him. Had it all been a dream? Justice and Hawke, the fight, what happened…

Someone groaned, and it wasn't Anders. It was deeper. He felt a surge of defensive adrenaline, gripping the pillow tightly and turned his head. Anders was next to him, also lying on his stomach, blond hair obscuring his face, mouth pressed open against the pillow he shared with Fenris. An arm and a leg were draped over Fenris; he could feel their warm weight on him. Beyond Anders, a head of dark hair lifted from its pillow and Fenris felt heat rise in his face, a blush of anger and confusion. It was Hawke.

Hawke, shirtless, sat up and yawned, scratching at his beard before looking over. He sighed, as if he were simply bored, as if waking up in bed next to a man who until a few short weeks ago was legally his slave and the other a not-quite-friend was completely normal. Fenris stared, not wanting to move and wake Anders. Hawke slid out of bed and Fenris was relieved to see he wore pajama bottoms. Following him around the room with his eyes only, Fenris realized they were in another guest room. So the previous night had definitely happened.

"I'm going to have copious amounts of coffee brought up," Hawke said quietly, picking a shirt up off the floor and pulling it on. "Then we'll talk."

Fenris watched him leave, then extricated himself from Anders, who whimpered slightly before rolling into the warm empty spot where Hawke had been, hugging a pillow tightly to his chest. When Fenris sat up, he was also relieved to see he was dressed in pajama pants as well, but cringed at the realization that someone must have dressed him when he was unconscious. He felt horribly vulnerable, and pulled the covers right up to his waist. How did he go from naked and being fucked by a Fade spirit in Hawke's bedroom to this calm almost post-coital early morning?

"Mruh," Anders managed, lifting his head.

"Morning," Fenris replied.

Anders rolled over, pushing his hair out of his face and blinked up at Fenris. "What?"

"You could answer that better than I could, I think."

"He couldn't," Hawke said, coming in carrying a breakfast tray. "Sit up, Anders."

Anders struggled and Fenris helped him move into a sitting position. Hawke set the tray at the foot of the bed and they watched him pour coffee for all three of them before settling in a chair opposite. Fenris held the steaming mug between his hands, looking at his reflection in the dark liquid. He looked ruffled but sated, and confused.

"I'll start at the beginning," Hawke said, propping his feet on the mattress. "I told Anders about the letters we received regarding his status in the Circle."

Anders flinched, nearly dropping his mug, and Fenris steadied his hand.

"He was upset and I told him it meant he could be free. He didn't like that. There was yelling."

Anders was shaking now, and Fenris put his own mug down before taking Anders' from him, and held his hands tightly. He remained quiet, letting Hawke talk, deciding this wouldn't be a good time to berate Hawke for his foolishness.

"Before I realized the mistake I made, Justice took control. I tried to fight back, but I'll be damned if I can handle a Fade spirit. They're not like demons. Demons I can take. But Justice, he's… something else."

"A brilliant euphemism," Fenris said. He'd tried to push forth the annoyance he felt but it came out tired sounding.

Hawke shrugged and sipped his coffee. "We fought, we argued. Then you came in. You know the rest of that."

Fenris looked away, staring down at his hands cupping Anders', but didn't pull away.

"After you passed out, Justice disappeared and Anders was unconscious. So I took care of you first, healed what I could."

Fenris reached up to touch his neck, frowning at the lump of scar tissue he felt there. Hawke might have been a powerful mage but healing was never his strength. Not to mention the fighting with Justice likely took a lot out of him. He nodded his thanks.

"I got you dressed before tracking down Bodahn and had him carry you to a guest room. That's when Anders woke up. He was… hysterical."

Fenris looked at Anders, who was staring at their hands. "Do you remember this, Anders?"

"I didn't want to leave," Anders whispered, his tone small and defeated. "I didn't want to go back."

"He begged me to stay with him, and he wanted to see you," Hawke explained. "He wouldn't let me go. So I brought him here to show him that he hadn't killed you. Had a damn vice grip on my arm so I figured one night couldn't hurt."

"And the thought that Justice might return in the middle of the night to kill us in our sleep?" Fenris ventured.

"Crossed my mind but I was too damn tired to care. I told Bodahn to run for Aveline if he heard any other commotion, but apparently it was a quiet night."

"Mm." Fenris murmured. He couldn't even remember dreaming.

Hawke tipped his mug toward him questioningly. "What I don't understand is Justice's reaction."

"You told us we were free," Anders whispered, almost inaudible.

Fenris reached up and tucked a lock of blond hair behind Anders' ear. "Did that upset you?" he asked gently.

Anders nodded.

"And then Justice became upset."

Another nod.

Fenris sighed. "I think our problem has just increased in spades."

"Oh no shit?" Hawke asked, dropping his feet to reach for the carafe. He refilled his mug. "Do tell."

"Whenever I push too close to memories that Danarius seems to have buried in Anders' mind, not… not pleasant memories exactly, but ones of myself, Justice doesn't appreciate it. He's come to the surface a few times and it frightens Anders. It must have happened last night. He likely thought you were going to dismiss him with the news. And Justice simply got angry."

Hawke nodded a little, shrugging. "Makes sense. But that doesn't explain Justice's… uh. Amorous overtures."

Fenris shot him a glare. "Must you?"

Hawke looked down at his coffee.

Fenris sighed, not sure he was able to handle Hawke's way of coping. He'd seen him after his mother's death, pretending everything was fine until it eventually led to a breakdown where he was found half-dead in a cave up the coast, surrounded by giant spiders he'd hacked to pieces.

"The lyrium," Fenris explained. "It must act like some sort of aphrodisiac, possibly."

But he wasn't sure if that was right. Or even if Fade spirits like Justice felt desires of the flesh. Demons certainly. But a virtuous spirit like Justice? Perhaps they should have gone to Orsino for help after all. This was beyond him, and obviously beyond Hawke. Anders might have been able to shed some light on the situation, but he was still too far in his slave mindset. And talking about Justice might trigger the spirit again and Fenris wasn't sure if he could survive another encounter like that.

"You might be right," Hawke said. "I'll ask Varric if he knows anyone who might have literature on the subject. Make subtle inquiries into the Circle."

"Don't get caught," Fenris said. "The last thing we need is the Knight-Commander believing you're going to be performing some sort of ritual with a Fade spirit."

"I'll be careful."

Fenris took up his mug and sipped the slightly lukewarm coffee. It was difficult to put his feelings to words. He remembered his fear, the pain, but more than either he remembered the pleasure. How good it felt to have Justice inside him and around him. It was disturbingly perverse and he desperately wanted to know why the Fade spirit had done it. The anger was understandable, so was the feeding on his markings to an extent. But giving him pleasure in return?

"Anders," Hawke said carefully. "You'll always have a home here, you understand? You can stay as long as you'd like."

Fenris sipped again to hide a smile. Despite everything, Hawke was still proving to be sympathetic. If anything were to change the man's mind, it would have been the previous night. Anders curled up, clinging to Fenris's free hand.

"Yes, Hawke. Thank you."

"I'm going to get cleaned up and talk to a mason about the hole. Anders, would you mind staying in today?"

Anders shook his head. "Can… will Fenris stay with me?"

Hawke looked to Fenris, and Fenris nodded. "Good," Hawke sighed, and turned to go.

"Hawke," Anders said, looking up.

Hawke stopped. "Hm?"

Anders climbed out of bed, dressed similarly to both of them, and walked toward Hawke, almost knelt, stopped himself. "I just… it's Justice. He…"

Hawke took him by his bare shoulders. "It'll be fine, Anders. We'll make everything right. And everything Danarius did, no matter wh-"

Anders interrupted him with a kiss. Fenris nearly spat out his coffee and was halfway across the room when Hawke pushed Anders back. He looked wildly to Fenris, then to Anders, then fled, leaving the door open in his wake. Fenris watched Anders' shoulders slump, and grabbed him before he fell bonelessly to the floor. He had no idea what was going through Anders' mind, why he'd kissed Hawke seemingly of his own accord. Whispering comforting words, he pulled Anders up and back into bed. He moved the coffee tray to a table before returning to his side.

"Tell me what you need," Fenris said, smoothing back his hair, pulling the covers up to his chin. Anders rolled over, curling up. Fenris sighed and leaned down, kissing his temple. "Stay here. I'll be back in two minutes."

He ignored the look that Bodahn gave him as he passed the dwarf in the hall. No doubt the manservant had seen more than his fair share of people in various states of undress in Hawke's estate at all hours of the day and night. Fenris hardly cared about gossiping servants. He reached his destination in the library, pulled out three likely looking books and returned to the guest room. Anders was thankfully still there, curled up under the covers, the barest bit of blond hair sticking out. Fenris settled himself in bed next to him, propping the book in his lap. This was either a very good idea, or would push Anders so far into memories of Tevinter that Justice would return full force. He only hoped the Fade spirit's thirst for lyrium was slaked the previous evening and he wouldn't emerge again anytime soon.

He opened the book and began to read very slowly. It was one of Varric's crime dramas about a city guard gone rogue. He ignored the implications that Varric had in fact been writing about Aveline, and tried instead to recall how he felt when Anders read to him. Comforted, safe. Slowly the blanket came down, and Fenris laid a careful hand on Anders' head.

"Keep reading," Anders whispered.

Fenris did, and as he continued, Anders moved closer. He paused only to sip the cold coffee before resuming, arm wrapped tightly around his friend. Anders lifted a hand to help with every page turn. They read together into the afternoon and Fenris would have been content to stay there if not for his stomach growling. Anders put his palm over the rumbling, palm splayed against the skin. Fenris looked down, holding his breath.

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"Forever is a long time." Fenris carefully brushed back Anders' hair, running his fingers through the locks. 

"I don't want to go back there," Anders whispered.

Fenris felt him tense, curled up against his side. He held him tightly. "You won't. Remember, Hawke said you could stay with him."

"And you."

"Mm. I will remain with you for as long as you need me."

"Forever," Anders confirmed. "After you left, it was…"

Fenris felt the familiar tingling in his skin, the lyrium thrumming. "Calm down. Try not to think about it. Come. Let's get dressed and eat, then we'll find Hawke." He pulled slowly away from Anders and they dressed. As they were heading toward the kitchen, Fenris touched his shoulder. Curiosity had won out finally. "Can you tell me why you kissed him?"

Anders turned to look at him, frowning a bit. "I… He was angry about Justice and I didn't… I wanted to…"

Fenris looked at him, eyebrows raised, face betraying the surprise he felt. "You kissed him because you wanted to?" Something like pride mixed with jealousy settled in his chest. Proud of Anders because if he was starting to do things because he wanted to rather than because he was told to, it was a very promising step forward. Jealousy… well, he would think on that when he needed to.

"I think so," Anders said hesitantly.

Fenris gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's all right. This is… this is good."

Anders smiled. It was a small thing, just a quirk of the lips, but Fenris knew it was a start. Once they dealt with the Fade spirit, Anders would be well on the path to recovery, making his own choices and decisions. After a quick meal of cold meat and bread, Fenris decided perhaps a trip back to his own residence was in order. He would bring Anders, just to keep him occupied until Hawke returned, but they made it only as far as the main hall when the front door opened. Fenris stopped at the foot of the stairs, frowning.

"Such a pleasure to be invited to your estate, Champion."

Beside Fenris, Anders froze, wide-eyed. The voice spoke with a pronounced Tevinter accent, and while he hadn't heard it in a very long time, there was no mistaking it. Hawke emerged from the doorway, looking slightly annoyed but otherwise okay, and he was leading three people. At the front, Magister Faustinus Scaevola, still tall and reedy with his black goatee, and behind him a capable looking warrior in shiny black armor, long hair tied back in a braid, along with his healer, an elven woman with short brown hair, in a dark green robe with white accents.

"And here he is!" Faustinus said, lifting his arms wide as if to embrace the air before dropping them, clasping his left wrist with his right. "Bellales, it's so good to see you again."

Anders took a step back, nearly tripping on the stairs. Fenris gripped his elbow, arm around his waist to keep him from falling.

"And… my goodness, Fenris. You haven't changed a bit since I last saw you. How long has it been, my boy?"

"I am not your boy," Fenris snarled, unable to keep the animosity he felt for the magister hidden. While Faustinus had never wronged him personally, it was still everything the man represented that simply repulsed Fenris thoroughly.

"Of course. You belong to the Champion now, do you not?"

Hawke spoke first. "No. Fenris is free. Legally."

Fenris frowned, looking at him questioningly. _Tevinter law,_ he reminded himself. Slaves who ran away weren't legally free in Thedas. And if a magister demanded the slave be extradited, the country's ruling government would be inclined to comply. It only took a few seconds to work out what Hawke meant. If Danarius's assets went to Hawke, that included Fenris. When Hawke petitioned for Anders' freedom, perhaps he'd done the same for Fenris. All the same, why hadn't Hawke told him?

_Because you would have lashed out at him._

It was true. Fenris could easily see himself snapping at Hawke. Asking him if Hawke expected gratitude. As far as Fenris was concerned, he'd taken his freedom in his own hands. It had nothing to do with Hawke. But Hawke was able to lift the brand of _slave_ from him legally. It was a bit of a relief he had to admit, if only to himself. He didn't feel inclined to thank Hawke, and because the man hadn't thrown it in his face, it seemed Hawke had no wish to speak more on it either.

"I see, I see," Faustinus said. "Well. Shall we discuss why I've made the trek from Solas, then? Perhaps in a more comfortable room?"


	11. Chapter 11

Hawke led them through to the library. Faustinus settled himself in an armchair, his slaves standing behind him on either side. It was a move meant to be intimidating, but didn't seem to affect Hawke as he settled down, pouring drinks. Faustinus took the glass and gave it a perfunctory sip before setting it aside. Fenris almost remained standing before remembering himself. He tugged Anders to sit with him on the couch opposite Faustinus.

"In your letter, it was stated that I could reclaim my full profits if I were to address this issue with Bellales."

"Anders," Fenris said. It was one thing for him to keep the name that Danarius gave for him. _Leto_ was someone he barely remembered.

Faustinus drew himself up a little straighter, peering at Fenris as if he wanted to tell Fenris to keep his mouth shut. But Fenris was too used to speaking his mind over the past several years. Trading barbs with Isabela and Varric, arguing with Hawke and conversing for hours at a time with Sebastian. He no longer held his tongue in the presence of others. And he would be a poor example of a free elf if he cowed now before another magister.

"Anders," Faustinus relented. "I wasn't always privy to Danarius's rituals with him, but I am a bit more skilled than he was at venturing into the Fade. Danarius was always so concerned with worldly powers. Whereas I was much more interested in the less tangible aspects."

Fenris nearly scoffed. He'd seen Faustinus's sprawling vineyards and his estate in Solas. The man was all about decadence. Though his fortune did seem small in comparison to Danarius's. Fenris's former master had several residences through Tevinter after all.

"So what did Danarius do to Anders? Specifically the Fade spirit?" Hawke asked, leaning forward.

He seemed intrigued. And Fenris couldn't truly blame him. He never had a desire to delve into the Fade himself. Especially after assisting Hawke with the elf-blooded human several years ago, and failing horribly to say no to the pride demon that lured him with the promise of power. But Hawke was a curious man. Anything to do with magic piqued his interests, as evidenced whenever they stumbled upon a cache of tomes and artifacts.

"I can't say I'm entirely sure. But once every few weeks he would come to visit me and take advantage of my hospitality." Faustinus smiled a bit too greasily for Fenris's taste. "You remember, Anders."

Anders kept his eyes firmly on his knees, hands folded in his lap. "Yes, Master Faustinus."

Hawke scowled. "Messere. Or, I suppose Magister is your proper title."

Faustinus waved a hand, as if formalities didn't matter to him. "Danarius would stay in the Fade for days with him and it wasn't my place to ask why or what."

"Do you think you could do that ritual for us?" Hawke asked. "If we were to go into the Fade with Anders, perhaps we could figure out why Justice has been uh…"

"Volatile," Fenris provided.

Faustinus smirked, catching the euphemism. "I can do better than that if you wish. Though I wouldn't know why you would."

"Don't keep us in suspense," Hawke said.

"There is a spell that would be able to separate the spirit from Anders."

Fenris looked at Anders, who hadn't moved or looked up. He half expected him to say no or to have Justice emerge in anger at the suggestion. But thankfully Justice was quiet. Unfortunately Anders seemed to have the same inclination.

"It might be something to consider," Hawke said, "but that would be Anders' decision. After all, it was his decision to allow Justice inside him in the first place. For now I think we should stick to the original idea. Help us get into the Fade and talk to Justice to see what's causing problems. Then if Anders agrees, we'll let you do this… this uh, spirit-ectomy."

Faustinus chuckled. "Not so fast, my dear Champion. There is a matter of compensation. I didn't perform the ritual for Danarius out of the goodness of my heart."

"Fenris said you likely wouldn't accept coin."

"I have money, Champion. No. I think restoring my profits will be sufficient. And… perhaps that lovely young blond elf girl?"

"Orana?" Hawke asked, confused. "What about her?"

Fenris growled. "No."

"What? You mean take her with you as a slave? Over my dead body," Hawke snapped, realizing now what Faustinus meant. "She's a servant, not a slave, and that wasn't part of the deal."

Faustinus raised his hands before chuckling. "You cannot blame me for trying." With a flourish he removed a rolled up scroll from his robes and handed it to Hawke. "The terms of the contract."

Hawke unrolled it and Fenris left Anders' side to move next to him to read. It was in the common tongue, thank the Maker, and while the legal terminology tripped him up somewhat, it was fairly straightforward. The vineyard profits would be restored and in return Faustinus would aid Hawke in a magical rite that would send them all into the Fade until Hawke was personally satisfied with the results, though the ritual would not exceed the number of half a dozen.

"And what if it takes more than six trips into the Fade?" Hawke asked.

"Then you would need a new bargaining chip, I expect. I'm not a difficult man to work with, Champion. Everyone has something of value to trade, even if it's just a favor."

"Sounds like a deal with a demon," Hawke muttered.

"Close enough," Fenris huffed. "It looks legitimate enough though, Hawke. I cannot see any loopholes in the wording."

"When can we start this then?" Hawke asked, reaching for a pen. He smoothed the scroll and signed it before returning it to Faustinus.

Faustinus blew on the ink to hurry the drying before rolling it tightly and returning it to his robes. "Ideally you would return to Solas with me where I could utilize my own facilities. As it is, I will need a sturdy, private room with no windows and a few hours' time to set up. We should be ready by midnight to perform the ritual."

"And do I have your word that I'll come out of this alive?" Hawke asked.

"My dear Champion," Faustinus said, violet eyes shining as he flashed a grin. "If you are going to die, it would be through no fault of my own. But the Fade, as you're aware, is a dangerous and deadly place."

"Fine. You can use the wine cellar. Bodahn will see you to it."

"I'll return within the hour with the things I need," Faustinus said, standing.

Hawke and Fenris stood as well, and Fenris watched them shake hands. Faustinus hesitated before holding his hand out to Fenris. For a moment, Fenris wanted nothing more than to insult him by not taking it. But it was another step in his own freedom. A magister would never deign to touch another's slave in such a respectful manner. So he shook it, feeling slight trepidation as he met the man's eyes. But no one berated him, no one struck him in anger or threatened punishment. He was equal to Faustinus now.

Hawke left the room, walking them out, and Fenris returned to Anders' side, sitting and leaning down a bit so he could see his face. With a sigh, he reached up and pushed his hair back from his eyes and took him by the arms.

"Are you all right with this?" Fenris asked, realizing he should have likely checked with him sooner, lest Anders have any repercussions about returning to the Fade.

"It's the best way, right, Fenris?" Anders asked, looking up at him. "If I'm going to… to get better. And separating myself from Justice…"

"That's your choice and yours alone," Fenris said. "Whatever Danarius did to Justice to make him lash out this way, we'll discover it. And if you wish to be separated-"

"Stop," Anders gasped, gripping his hand. "Stop talking about it." He shut his eyes tightly and leaned against Fenris.

Fenris felt the pulse of the Fade, the heaviness of magic in the air, and slid an arm around Anders, holding him tightly.

Hawke appeared in the doorway a moment later, looking harried. "Is it-"

"He's fine for now," Fenris assured him. "I think we're getting a bit too close though, talking about it. Perhaps a distraction?"

"Like what?" Hawke asked hesitantly.

"I'd like to bring him to the chantry."

Hawke frowned. "You want him to talk to Sebastian."

"What's wrong with that?" Fenris asked, feeling slightly defensive.

"He's as anti-mage as they come. More even than you," Hawke said, crossing his arms. "If you hadn't noticed, the Chantry likes to lock up mages and throw away the key."

"Sebastian is-"

"A self-righteous sanctimonious prick."

Fenris scowled. "He is a friend of mine. And if you really feel that way-"

"He knows I do," Hawke said. "We've butted heads more than once, Fenris. And I'd rather not have Anders meeting him in this condition. Maybe after…"

"And what do you think is going to happen that's so terrible?"

Hawke shrugged. "He could try to convert him."

Fenris scoffed. "You have strange ideas, Hawke."

"He tried to convert you."

Fenris shook his head. "I won't deny it's complicated."

"Anders is extremely susceptible to suggestion right now. You don't think Sebastian would try to take advantage of that?"

"I'd like to go to the chantry," Anders said quietly, surprising them both.

Fenris refrained from smirking at Hawke. "We'll return in time for Faustinus's arrival."

"Can Hawke come too?" Anders asked, and actually looked up at Hawke.

Fenris watched Hawke shift – nerves? From what exactly? Visiting the chantry or was he still feeling unease from the impulsive kiss from Anders that morning?

"Honestly I don't see why we can't just pop down to the Hanged Man," Hawke said. "Maybe have a drink before we do this 'visiting the Fade to confront a potentially angry spirit' thing. Invite backup just in case."

"Hawke," Fenris said, "I'm not sure backup is a good idea."

"We could've used some last night. And now we'll be meeting the spirit on his own turf. All I'm saying is maybe-"

"Faustinus will use blood magic."

"-we should – what?"

Fenris would have laughed at Hawke's expression had he not felt similarly about blood magic. "It's common in Tevinter."

"That… doesn't matter," Hawke said, "because we're not there. We're here. And blood magic is illegal."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "There are quite a few things you've done over the years that were blatantly illegal."

Hawke shrugged a little. "I wouldn't say illegal…"

"You've stolen liquor from the seneschal's desk. And that's the least of your offenses."

"In my defense, he stole it first. And it's hardly the crime of blood magic."

"It would help Anders."

Hawke sighed and stopped fidgeting, leaning against the doorframe and surveying Anders. "I don't think Varric at least would have anything to say about it. Or Merrill."

Fenris considered this. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to bring Varric." He didn't feel like arguing with Hawke about Merrill. He looked at Anders. "We'll visit the chantry tomorrow, provided we're able to."

Anders nodded in agreement. He didn't seem inclined to leave either Fenris or Hawke, and followed them out. Fenris noticed the wide berth they were given, and why not? The Champion – a known apostate working outside the Circle, a virtually unknown Tevinter mage rumored to have destroyed a tavern in Lowtown, and himself. While he was used to running and hiding and keeping himself cloaked from the years after his escape, walking brazenly in the middle of the day through Hightown wasn't something Fenris felt comfortable with, even next to Hawke. Lowtown was much of the same, though people tended to stare a bit less. Likely out of reverence for Hawke, who'd helped them out on more than one occasion. But in the Hanged Man, the buzz of conversation simply died.

Fenris had only been back a handful of times since the fight with Danarius, but the renovations had since been completed. Hawke, broad-shouldered and imposing, stared down anyone who gaped at them. Anders continued to keep his head down, and Fenris laid a gentle hand on his back as they moved upstairs into Varric's suite. Hawke knocked on the open door.

Varric looked up from his papers and waved them in. "Lunch?"

Hawke shook his head. "No, thanks, Varric. Had a request."

"Have a seat."

Hawke slid into a seat before looking up at Anders. "You can sit."

Fenris nodded to Anders, who looked at him first before taking a seat. Fenris settled next to him, watching him arrange his robes before folding his hands in his lap, eyes down. Varric looked at him a bit warily before turning back to Hawke.

"Remember I told you we'd be writing to some magisters in Tevinter?" At Varric's nod, Hawke continued. "One of them is here now and we're going to be doing a… ritual of sort. To see if we can talk to the spirit inside Anders."

Varric frowned, setting his pen down at sitting back, hands folded over his chest. "I have a feeling I'm not going to like the next few words that come out of your mouth."

"It's blood magic."

"I hate being right."

"But it's important that we talk to this spirit otherwise I don't think we can help Anders."

"Something to do with the giant hole in your roof?"

Hawke shrugged. "Maybe."

"Oh please, Hawke. Everyone's talking about it. Rumor is that you got drunk, cursed Meredith's name and then blew up your estate."

Hawke considered this. "Better than the alternative. Maybe it'll get me out of some parties."

"It's not funny, Hawke," Fenris said quietly.

"No, but the rumor could be useful. And if people are avoiding me, I won't have to answer any awkward questions about why I invited a Tevinter magister to come to Kirkwall." He turned back to Varric. "We need backup."

"Coterie won't work with you," Varric said. "Not after last time. Bad investment, they call it. Too many loses, not enough profit."

"They're only not getting the profit because they ran. But I was talking about you."

Varric sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Hawke." He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You know I'm with you for whatever you need. Caves and mines and sewers. Fine. Giant spiders, Bianca has no problems with. But the Fade? Sure if we were going for a jaunty romp. It would make for some excellent storytelling. You're talking about confronting a demon."

"Spirit," Hawke corrected.

Varric waved a hand. "Whatever. I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"We have no choice," Fenris said solemnly.

"There's always a choice," Varric replied. "You could simply not go. That's a choice."

Hawke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If it's asking too much…"

"Hawke, don't do that," Varric said, and his usual easygoing tone took on one of irritation.

"All I'm saying is that we could really use a hand."

"And what do you think I could do exactly?"

"Watch our backs while we talk to this thing."

Varric shook his head, as if he couldn't believe he was about to agree to this. "Fine. When?"

"Half an hour?"

"Maker's breath, Hawke, you don't exactly give a dwarf time to prepare."

"I don't think the spirits in the Fade are going to care if your hair isn't perfect," Hawke joked.

"Haha. Go away. I'll be there."

"Thanks, Varric."

"Don't thank me. Just give me the rights to sell your story."

Hawke smirked. "You're going to publish my story whether I say yes or not."

Varric laughed for real this time. "True enough. See you soon, Hawke."

Hawke led them out, hesitating but touching Anders on the shoulder. Fenris didn't miss the affectionate look Anders gave to Hawke. As he followed them out, he tried to sort his own feelings. Normally he'd be content to drink a bottle or two of whatever wine was left in his cellar and pass out. Emotions were easier to deal with under a drunken haze and he could wake up forgetting about them. When he was a slave, his master dictated his emotions. He shouldn't even be entertaining the notion of what would happen after. He'd been imagining rehabilitating Anders and their future afterward. There was no considering the fact that Anders might have developed any type of emotional attachment to Hawke. Which was ridiculous.

After all, didn't all slaves feel some sort of emotional attachment to their masters?

He clenched his fists as they walked, climbing the steps back to Hightown. Would those feelings linger once Anders realized he had a choice? He kissed Hawke because he'd wanted to. Not because of a command. He was no longer a slave and even though Justice seemed vehemently opposed to this turn of events, it appeared Anders was slowly relearning what freedom meant. And if Hawke returned the feelings? Fenris had never paid too much attention to the man's love life. He wasn't even sure Hawke was comfortable with the idea of being romantically entangled with another male. Fenris, for his part, never had a choice in the matter. Danarius forced it upon him. In fact, Fenris often felt more comfortable in the presence of other men, as women were often too complicated. There were, of course, exceptions. Isabela for one spoke always what was on her mind. It was refreshing in a way to have a conversation with her. And Merrill… The less said about the blood mage, the better.

In the end, he supposed it would be Anders' decision. If he wished to be with Hawke and Hawke agreed, then Fenris wouldn't stand in the way. He looked up, lagging a bit behind the other two, and watched as Hawke stopped to speak with Hubert regarding the Bone Pit. Fenris leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. Anders stood next to Hawke, slightly behind, and kept out of the conversation. Hubert glanced at him once or twice, and Hawke put a protective hand on the back of Anders' shoulder. Jealousy flared within him as Anders leaned toward Hawke.

Oh Maker… 

Fenris pressed two fingers to his forehead with a startling realization. He was definitely in trouble now.


	12. Chapter 12

The circle of blood stretched roughly ten feet in diameter. Why it had to be so large, Fenris didn't know and he didn't care to. Both of Faustinus's slaves had been bled and subsequently healed by Anders at Hawke's insistence. Faustinus stepped carefully, painting runes onto the wooden floor in intervals inside the circle's edge. The room stank of dust and decay from years of disuse and now the sharp coppery tang of blood. Fenris wrinkled his nose against the stench, leaning against a support beam. Beside him, Varric watched Faustinus warily. Hawke paced, stalking the outside. Only Anders appeared to be entirely at peace, sitting on a large crate, legs swinging a bit.

"Put these one every six inches," Faustinus said, handing a burlap sack to Fenris.

Fenris scowled but unfolded his arms to take the bag. Inside were black tapers with silver holders. He'd been privy to many rituals but never participated in any aside from when Danarius needed the blood. Carefully he set the candles apart around the edge, settling them on the thick scarlet line. His markings prickled, reacting to the magic that hung heavily in the air like an invisible fog. Anders stopped fidgeting and Hawke paused, looking up. Varric alone seemed unaffected by the palpable energy. Faustinus stepped outside of the circle and once Fenris placed the last candle, the magister raised a hand. The candles ignited with purple-white flames.

"Please step inside," he said, gesturing to the center. "And have a seat."

Hawke was the first to move, avoiding the candles and settling himself cross-legged on the floor. He held his staff across his lap and looked up at Varric and Fenris. Anders moved next, kneeling, and Varric took a tentative step inside. Fenris hesitated. What if Faustinus wanted to kill them? It would be all too easy to adjust the ritual, change the spell so that it suffocated them instead of sending them to the Fade. Hawke looked at him.

"Fenris?"

"I'm fine," he said, a bit too gruffly before stepping in and sitting next to Anders.

Anders reached over, touching his knee. "You said this will help."

Fenris nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. The anxiety he felt at voluntarily participating in a blood ritual dredged up the unpleasant memories of being forced to watch the others. "It will." He covered Anders' hand with his own and held tightly.

Faustinus began the spell, a slow chant in Tevene as he circled them outside the blood line, dragging his dagger across his wrist, tapping droplets of fresh blood atop every candle. Fenris saw the room begin to shimmer as if he was staring into a fire. He closed his eyes against the pull, feeling slightly sick. His markings itched and the only comfort was Anders gripping his hand. 

With a jerk he was thrown forward, feeling as if he'd been caught in a violent undertow. When he looked up, he was no longer in Hawke's cellar, but in a grassy field that seemed to extend forever into the horizon. Next to him, Hawke was just getting to his feet. There was no sign of Anders or Varric. He turned, surveying the surroundings. No landmarks. In fact, nothing but grass.

"Well," Hawke said, brushing himself off and picking up his staff, "this is a bit different than usual."

"Mm." Fenris touched the pommel of his sword, though he wasn't sure how much good it would do him. His tattoos ached as if someone was pulling on them, trying to peel them from his skin. "Shall we start walking, then?"

"Might as well," Hawke agreed.

They picked a direction and began to walk. The grass was soft and comfortable beneath his feet, the sun not overly bright and there wasn't a single cloud in the soft blue sky. The plains went on forever, but seemed fairly flat, and Fenris could see for miles. Nothing but a line in the distance where green met blue.

"What do you think is going to happen after all this?" Hawke asked.

"After what?" Fenris asked, his hopes of a silent walk dashed almost immediately.

"Well once we resolve this issue with Justice. Figure out what's making him so… uppity. Maybe even separating him from Anders if Anders agrees."

"I expect once that's over with you'll continue to assist me with his rehabilitation."

"Of course, but I meant after that."

"What are you asking, Hawke?" Fenris bristled with irritation.

"You and Anders. I'm sure you had grand plans together after you were both free."

"We didn't exactly discuss it in detail." Fenris recalled Anders' shining eyes when he spoke of freedom. How happy he was when Fenris finally agreed to his plans. They spoke of Kirkwall but Fenris thought it was merely a pipe dream. "He wanted to free the mages. If things had worked out differently, you might have met him instead of me. Without him… I might still be a slave in Tevinter."

"You would've gotten out eventually," Hawke said confidently.

Fenris shook his head a little but didn't correct him. Hawke hadn't known what a compliant slave he was and he didn't care to recall examples for him. Hawke never looked at him with pity and he appreciated that. "Perhaps."

"So will you discuss it in detail once we've sorted this out?"

"I expect so."

"You know, it's not very much fun talking to you when resort to monosyllabic answers."

"'Expect' has two syllables."

"Why couldn't I have gotten stuck with Varric instead?" Hawke asked exasperatedly.

"It's your luck," Fenris explained. "Or mine. I don't see why we need to converse. The sooner we find Justice, the quicker we can leave."

"And in the meantime we have an ocean's worth of grass in front of us and little else."

"You wish to fill the silence with meaningless prattle."

"Not so meaningless. I'd like to know when my friends are going to up and leave. I nearly lost Isabela over the Qunari thing."

"Mm." Fenris remembered. It was still a bit of a shock that she'd come back. "If Anders wishes to stay, I will remain. It truly depends on what his motivations are. If he wishes to continue on the path he was on before, he'll need help. Unfortunately the incident in the Hanged Man coupled with his relationship with you will no longer grant him any sort of anonymity. Which will make his original plans on revolutionizing the way mages are treated in Thedas rather more difficult if he remains in Kirkwall."

"He never talks about revolution."

"I expect he wouldn't. The last several years he's been reconditioned to live as a slave. It's been a long time since he's been able to do as he wishes." Fenris paused. "He told me he kissed you because he wanted to."

Hawke didn't respond right away, and Fenris noticed he tensed. "At least he didn't feel obligated to."

A neutral and extremely frustrating answer. But Fenris knew if he asked Hawke outright about his feelings toward Anders, Hawke would take it as jealousy and tease him mercilessly. And then Fenris would have to rearrange his insides. As that would be counter-productive to what they were hoping to achieve, it was best that Fenris stayed quiet.

"He's…" Hawke started, looking for a word. "Different."

Fenris looked sidelong at him, wondering how to interpret that. "If being vague were an art form, Hawke, you would be the undisputed master, not I."

"He's powerful. And dangerous, no doubt. But there's this spark in him."

Fenris looked away, keeping his eyes fixed on the endless expanse of green.

"And before you say anything, no, I don't mean Justice," Hawke continued, apparently oblivious to Fenris's irritation. "There are times where I thought maybe he was coming back. Even with Justice there. He would listen to me talk about the mages here in the Gallows and I don't know. Something I couldn't put my finger on, but he actually seemed to want to say something. Of course I would tell him to speak his mind and he'd fall right back to just agreeing with me. I think that once we get this settled he might want to help dethrone Meredith."

Fenris clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. But he couldn't hold back one comment. "So you'll use him to your own ends."

Hawke shot him a glare. "No one's using anyone. Maker, you're ornery. Sorry, I forgot I'm not allowed to talk about mage oppression with you."

Fenris swallowed the urge to apologize. "And if he doesn't want to join you?"

"Then he won't. And I expect you and him will ride off into the sunset together on white horses."

"You can start making sense any time now," Fenris snapped.

"You know," Hawke said, "I was wrong before. You're not just in love with him. You're practically obsessed."

Fenris stopped walking, heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He ached to deny it. Any good feelings he had toward mages stopped at the level of tolerance. Mages given their freedom would become magisters. Didn't they run into blood mages on a near weekly basis? And weren't most of the worst problems in Kirkwall attributed to dangerous apostates? Ones like Hawke were rare, able to reign in their power and not vie for status. His entire life Fenris had been a slave, been mistreated, abused, used, tormented all at the hands of mages. Even his sister with her thirst to become a magister betrayed him. The last of his family.

"What? A little too accurate for you?" Hawke asked, stopping as well, turning around to face him.

"You know nothing about me or my feelings for him," Fenris growled.

"Touchy," Hawke said, amused. "Look, I get it."

"No," Fenris snarled, stepping right into his personal space, gripping the front of Hawke's shirt. "You don't get it. You will never understand what it's like to be a slave and have someone give you that hope only to have it snatched away! You will never realize what it means to have that type of bond with someone, to care about someone in such a way that it terrifies you because you don't know if they're going to live after their last punishment, their last beating! And you certainly have no idea what it's like to see someone you love broken down so completely that the mere thought of freedom is an anathema to their very being! You will never, ever 'get it', Hawke, and don't you dare try to empathize with me or with him. Ever. Do you get _that_?" Fenris stared hard at him, looking up in the surprised face, and only released him when Hawke nodded. "Good." He watched Hawke smooth down his tunic, not meeting Fenris's eyes. "We should move on."

He stalked away, not bothering to look back to see if Hawke was following him, but knew that he was. They didn't speak again for what felt like hours. In the Fade it might have been that long, but in the real world, Maker only knew how much time had passed. Eventually the sun appeared to set and in the distance the plains gave way to a forest that stretched across the horizon. They stopped at the tree line, looking left and right, trying to peer into it. Fenris took his sword from his back and Hawke did the same with his staff, lighting it, and they walked in. They met no resistance as they traveled inside, snapping twigs and rustling leaves.

"You would think maybe a couple of birds or squirrels," Hawke ventured.

"If we saw either, they would merely be poor replications of the real world."

"Sort of like that rose bush there?"

Fenris looked. The bush itself looked much too green to be real. The roses themselves were square and orange rather than red and upon closer inspection, the thorns were silver, like little blades. "Quite."

"I'm glad I never lived in a Circle," Hawke said. "But I admit the lessons about the Fade would have been fascinating. The Circles need to operate more like schools. They're just prisons."

Fenris sighed loudly enough and exaggeratedly enough that Hawke got the hint and fell silent. It didn't take them long to stumble across a clearing. In the middle sat a lone wooden shack with two windows and a door. The porch and its awning were dilapidated, shingles missing from the roof. A welcome mat sat by the door, brown and decaying with the words ' Aequitas Equitas' burnt into it. Fenris frowned. He still couldn't read much Tevene, but he knew that phrase.

"Justice."

"Then this looks like the place," Hawke said. "Still. Wish Varric and Anders were here. Hopefully Faustinus can pull them out even if we don't find them." He took a breath and looked at Fenris, hand on the doorknob. "Ready?"

"Let's go."

Hawke swung the door open and let a ball of light loose. It hung in the air and they stepped inside. An incorporeal figure of a man in armor, glowing with a dull bluish sheen hung from a crisscross of wooden beams. His limbs were lacerated, a pearly white smoke emanating from the cuts. Hawke stepped a little closer, clutching his staff, and the man looked up. His face shifted from a bucket helmet to a man with sunken eyes to Anders and back to the helm. Fenris took a tentative step further into the room.

"Who… you're not Danarius," the spirit croaked, the sound of two stones being ground together.

"Justice?" Hawke asked.

"I was… once… Justice."

Fenris circled carefully around the room, examining the long side tables upon which sat various instruments. Raw lyrium pulsed from a metal bucket. He frowned, touching one of the silver rods. "Hawke."

Hawke looked over.

"Danarius was torturing him."

"Danarius," Justice managed, "has kept a part of me here. Once he discovered my location. Anders tried to fight. But he is not strong enough."

"How can we help you?" Hawke asked, examining the bindings.

"Let me die."

"What happens to Anders if you die?" Hawke asked.

Justice's head lolled to the right. "He is coming."

Fenris and Hawke turned to see the door creak open. Anders appeared silhouetted in the frame, slightly out of breath. Fenris moved quickly to his side and helped him into the cabin. He didn't have any wounds on him, but his heart was racing, hands shaking. Fenris sat him propped against a wall and knelt down to look him over.

"Anders, what happened? Where's Varric?"

"I don't know. He was behind me and then he was gone. Out of the Fade."

"Do you know for sure?" Hawke asked.

Anders flinched, as if he expected Hawke to scream at him or hit him for losing track of Varric. "He disappeared. There's nowhere else for him to go."

"Unless a demon ate him," Hawke sighed.

"No. Danarius… he, this place is safe."

"What is this place exactly?" Fenris asked.

"Danarius had Justice cordon off an area of the Fade. This place is only accessible if I'm here. After Alam, he found a way to… control Justice."

Justice coughed, a dry rasping sound.

"He's dying," Anders said sadly. "Danarius kept him alive with lyrium and blood magic. But lately he's been fading."

"He attacked me easily enough," Hawke said, bewildered.

"We were upset. Our combined rage, the injustice of being set free. Part of him feels only that rage. Vengeance."

Fenris scowled. "Danarius has truly warped this spirit if he believes slavery is the better path."

Anders nodded smally. 

"We can separate you two," Hawke said. "If that's what you want. If you think it would be best."

"Anders," Justice whispered. "Let me die. Please."

Anders remained sitting, knees drawn up, looking at Justice. "I did this to you."

"No," Justice said, clearing his throat. "You tried to keep me safe. If you let me die, I will return to the Fade. The true Fade. I will be absorbed into my brothers. If you leave me here, it is nothing but a torment. I will never be whole again no matter what."

Hawke stood and approached, examining the bindings. He reached for one and a jolt of energy surged forth, driving him back. He cursed and shook his hand. "Stings like a bitch," he hissed, popping two fingers in his mouth to soothe the ache.

Fenris turned to look at Anders again. "Danarius tortured him. Turned him into something he's not. Forced him to do things. If you let him go, he can heal. _You_ can heal."

Anders' eyes filled with tears. "I know," he whispered. "I know, it's just that he's been with me so long. A part of me. Outside the Fade, he's changed. He's angry. Malicious. Danarius took whatever good was left in him and warped it. And kept the part he couldn't corrupt imprisoned here. And now…"

"To save him, you must let him go."

"I don't want to be alone," Anders said quietly. He closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I broke my last promise to you," Fenris said. "I won't ever do that again. I promise. As long as I live you will never have to be alone."

Anders looked at him, amber eyes glassy and full of pain. He glanced at Hawke. "And you?"

Hawke knelt down, taking Anders' hand. "I think that if we do this, if _you_ do this, Anders, you can take control of your own life, your own destiny. And if you want me to stay with you, I will. I promised you that you'd have a place to live. I'll be your friend, Anders. We can get to know each other without the stigma of master and slave."

Fenris only just managed to keep from bristling. He wouldn't let his jealousy get in the way of Anders' recovery. It would be enough that Anders would remain his friend. Anders pulled his hands away and pressed them to his eyes, sniffed, and wiped away his tears before getting slowly to his feet. He walked to Justice, who looked at him and nodded.

"It's been an honor, Anders," Justice said. "Stay focused on your task. There are many out there who need you."

Anders swallowed hard. "I'm sorry it didn't turn out the way we planned."

Justice straightened the best he could. "I will gift you my remaining power."

Anders removed one bond, catching Justice as he lurched forward, then removed the other. Fenris watched as the spirit disintegrated, splintering into thousands of shards of blue-white light. Anders held on as long as he could until the light faded entirely. His shoulders shook, and Fenris nearly collided with Hawke as they both moved to catch him before he fell.

"We should return," Fenris said. "He needs to rest."

Hawke pulled one of Anders' arms around his neck and Fenris mirrored the action. Together, they moved out of the cabin and left the Fade behind.


	13. Chapter 13

"Still in one piece?"

Fenris looked up from his supine position in the circle. Anders lay atop both him and Hawke, and Faustinus was looking down at them, smirking. From his peripheral vision, Fenris saw Varric standing outside the circle, looking surprised but also concerned. He winced as Anders came to, pressing his knee down hard into Fenris's thigh, struggling to get up.

"Anders, watch – OW!" Hawke exclaimed.

Anders scrambled, falling backward, and Fenris looked over to see Hawke rubbing his groin. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"Stuff it," Hawke snapped at him, sitting up.

"I'm sorry," Anders said, holding his hands up to ward off an anticipated blow.

"It's fine," Hawke said. "I'm sure it still works."

Fenris sat up, ignoring the hand that Faustinus extended to him, and got to his feet. "The ritual was a success."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Faustinus said pompously.

"Yeah, there was," Hawke said, looking over to Varric. "What happened?"

"Seems like your Fade doesn't care for dwarves. Which is fine by me, really," Varric said. "So don't shed any tears."

Hawke turned to Faustinus. "Then we're done."

Faustinus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We have no more need of your services," Hawke explained. "One trip was all it took."

"Pleased to have been of service, Champion," Faustinus said with a slight incline of his head.

Hawke reached down to pull Anders to his feet, brushing his robes off a little unnecessarily Fenris thought. "Let me walk you out." He looked at the others. "Hanged Man? Drinks on me?"

"No," Fenris said. "Anders needs to rest."

"You're turning into a regular wet nurse," Hawke said. "What are you going to do when his diapers no longer need changing?"

Fenris glared.

"Right," Varric said, breaking the awkward tension. "You know where to find me, Hawke. Magister. Can't say it's been a pleasure."

"You know," Faustinus started to say as the three trekked upstairs, "where I come from, dwarves are much more amiable…"

Fenris started gathering the candles and tossed them into the burlap sack. They'd burned almost to a nub. He wondered just how long they were in the Fade in comparison to here. The tapers would indicate at least five hours but it could have been as long as twelve. He didn't feel tired, and the cellar had no windows. Eager to get his internal clock reset, he hurried to complete his task of destroying the blood circle. Not that he cared to help Hawke with the cleaning process, but knowing the runes were intact and still usable made him nervous. Anders watched as he dumped out bottles of wine, scrubbing at the floor with an old rag, and dropped to help him.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," Anders said, and Fenris looked up at him.

Anders smiled. Though it was gone in a flash, it was there, and immediately Fenris felt relieved. He reached out, cupping Anders' cheek, thumb brushing gently over the skin. Anders watched him, eyes flicking down to Fenris's lips then back up. Fenris started to lean close, then stopped. He dropped his hand and continued to clean away the circle. Anders hesitated for a moment before continuing. Working together they cleaned the blood away and the cellar smelled of dust and grime and red wine. Better than blood, and Hawke wouldn't miss the few bottles they'd emptied.

"Would you like to come with me to the chantry now?" Fenris asked as they climbed the stairs.

"I think so. My head feels lighter. My chest," Anders said, hand over his heart, "it feels different."

"You're no longer sharing your soul," Fenris said. "It's to be expected. I'm sorry, I don't know anyone who's been through what you have. I wish… I wish I could help."

Anders shook his head. "You've helped enough. You've been so patient. I know I haven't been receptive these last few weeks and with Justice – oh, Maker," he said suddenly, stopping as they reached a landing. "Justice. What he did to you."

Fenris frowned, seeing the look of panic on Anders' face. He wondered when they would reach this topic. "It wasn't you. It was the corrupted part of Justice."

"Danarius… Danarius sometimes forced Justice into consciousness and he raped him, "Anders said uncomfortably. "Me. Justice in my body."

Fenris swore viciously in Tevene and stopped himself from reaching out to touch Anders. "So then…"

"Justice was seeking vengeance. The only way he knew how. Forcing pleasure instead of taking any for himself."

"It's not your fault," Fenris said sternly.

"But it is."

"No. Look at me, Anders." Anders did, and Fenris stretched his hand out between them, palm up. "Danarius did this to us."

Anders cautiously took his hand, curling his fingers, locking them with Fenris's. "I can barely remember it happening."

"We survived. That's all that matters. And now we're both free. We can move forward."

"And you'll stay with me?" Anders asked, voice wavering.

"Yes. I meant what I said. No matter what, I'll remain at your side."

Anders nodded, then moved forward, leaning against Fenris, pinning him against the wall. Fenris closed his eyes and embraced him, resting his chin on his shoulder. Anders buried his face into Fenris's neck and breathed slowly, creating goose bumps along Fenris's arm. He gripped Anders' robes, not wanting to move. It was the best he'd ever felt perhaps in his entire life. No longer a slave, his former master dead, and his friend finally free of his chains. But his chest ached. He longed to pull Anders down into a kiss, to see if Anders felt the same for him. And what if it all was just a result of their imprisonment together? Maker, why did he have to revisit these feelings just when he thought he had it all figured out.

"Hopefully I'm not interrupting anything untoward," Hawke said from the top of the second set of stairs. "But I didn't hear any heated moans of passion, so I figured it was safe."

Anders pulled away from Fenris and looked up, a tired smile on his face. "Hawke." Taking Fenris by the hand, he pulled him upstairs and stopped in front of Hawke, then hugged him tightly.

Hawke returned it, surprised, but with a pleased smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Well. Better. I'm not sure about good. I just… wanted to thank you. I think with Justice… gone," he said, voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat. "That I can really start figuring out my life now. Just please… be patient with me."

Hawke crooked a finger under Anders' chin and grinned. "Start looking people in the eye, okay?"

Anders lowered his eyes, then laughed before looking back up at Hawke. "Okay. I will."

Fenris couldn't tamp down the flare of jealousy he felt as Hawke's thumb brushed the slight cleft in Anders' chin before he dropped his hand.

"We're going to the chantry," Anders said. "Fenris and I. Would you come with us?"

Hawke shrugged a little. "If you want. It's just past dawn now."

"They'll be having a sermon," Fenris said. Just past dawn, which meant they'd been in the Fade nearly seven hours.

"And I'm guessing you want to have a chat with Choir Boy."

Fenris hated the nickname. Neither Varric nor Hawke seemed to have much respect for Sebastian. Perhaps his anti-mage stance. Would Sebastian be receptive to Anders? So far they'd not received any pushback from either the city guard or the Circle, at least none that he'd heard about. He assumed Hawke likely wouldn't respond well to threats from Meredith and would be even less receptive to those from Aveline should she decide that the loophole in Tevinter law wasn't good enough for Kirkwall.

"He'll be leading the Chant. It would be good for Anders to experience all the differences Kirkwall has to offer from Tevinter."

"Because this Chantry's so much better than that one," Hawke said sarcastically.

"Please don't fight," Anders said quietly. "I don't like it when you fight."

Fenris frowned, suddenly realizing that Anders had to endure quite a bit of his arguing with Hawke over the weeks. For him it was a normal thing. And many of their friends tended to side with Hawke. It was one of the reasons he spent so much time with Sebastian. Talking to someone who held similar views, who didn't judge him if they disagreed, it was helpful. He only wanted that for Anders as well. But never thought until now that his animosity with Hawke was an actual source of frustration for Anders, but rather a byproduct of him not wanting anyone to hurt his master.

"I apologize," Fenris said, lifting a hand to touch his shoulder, feeling warm when Anders smiled at him.

Hawke turned, saying nothing, and retreated into the kitchens. Anders looked at Fenris, apprehension in the crease between his eyebrows.

"He dislikes the Chantry. And he doesn't quite get along with Sebastian. It will be fine," he assured him, and gestured after Hawke.

They trekked to the Chantry, Hawke greeting a few guards on morning patrol as they crossed the few short blocks. Fenris felt the peace he usually found as they pushed open the large double doors. Anders took his arm, slightly nervous. The last time he'd been in a Chantry building, it was Tevinter, not Kirkwall, and he'd been a slave. Fenris looked at him.

"It's all right. Morning service will start soon. Come."

He led them upstairs to his usual spot. Anders settled between them, and Hawke leaned back, placing a booted foot up against the back of the pew in front of them. Fenris frowned but said nothing. It was a few minutes until the pious Andrastians began filling seats and when the service began, it was led in song. Fenris was pleased, looking to Anders to see if he was enjoying it. He had a curious expression on his face, head tilted slightly.

"What is it?"

"It's pretty," Anders said. "But I'm not sure I understand the message. In the Circle, we were told about the Maker. I never paid much attention. I… I see what mages can become. But is that still any reason to keep them locked up? Not all of them are like… like…" He swallowed, and Fenris knew what he meant. _Like Danarius. Like the other magisters._ "After all, there's Hawke."

Fenris looked past Anders to the mage in question. He was leaning back, hands laced behind his head, eyes closed. He looked like he'd fallen asleep. "Hawke is but one exception. In Kirkwall, many mages escape the Gallows and turn to blood magic. It's safer for them in the Circle than out."

Hawke snorted. Not asleep then. "Before you go corrupting his mind, maybe we should take a trip to the Gallows," he muttered, opening his eyes and turning his head. "Mages being turned Tranquil against their will for no reason. Sadists like Alrik on the loose. Maker, I swear if I ever catch that snake outside of his prison I will unleash hell upon him."

"Charming," Fenris said. "Did your mother teach you to blaspheme in a chantry?"

Hawke sat forward, boots falling to the floor with a loud clomp. "No, that was my father. He didn't agree with the Circle either, and he was in this one years ago _before_ it fell to corruption. Meredith-"

"Fenris!"

The service was ending and Sebastian approached. Fenris heard Hawke say something under his breath but couldn't quite make out the words. Beside him, Anders tensed.

"I didn't expect to see you here so early," Sebastian said. "Hello, Hawke."

Hawke tilted his chin in greeting.

"You look exhausted. Is everything okay?"

Fenris nodded. "We received word from Tevinter."

Sebastian glanced over Anders. "Everything go all right?"

"As well as can be expected," Fenris said. "Thank you."

Hawke muttered something and Anders looked at him. Fenris sighed. Perhaps it was a bad idea to have brought them along.

"Sebastian," Anders said carefully, not looking up at him. "May I ask you a question?"

Sebastian looked surprised, but pleased. "Of course you may. I have to say your demeanor has changed quite a bit from the last time we me. Fenris has told me of your progress. I'm pleased to see you here."

"So you can tell him about all the wonderful things the Chantry's doing for mages these days?" Hawke cut in.

Sebastian smiled serenely. "What's your question, Anders?"

"Andraste preached freedom and ended slavery. Your Chant says that."

"Indeed."

"Why does the Chantry allow slavery to continue in Tevinter? And why do the Circles here lock up their mages? It seems like… perhaps both Chantries are taking the absolute opposite of what Andraste was trying to teach."

Hawke laughed, but Fenris frowned, turning to look at Anders, who immediately dropped his eyes after speaking. Fenris reached out, touching his hand, and nodded encouragingly when Anders peeked at him from beneath his eyelashes.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak for the Tevinter Chantry," Sebastian said apologetically. "Perhaps if you'd like to peruse the Chantry's library, you might find the answers you're seeking."

Anders didn't reply, and Fenris looked up at Sebastian. "Another time."

"I did want a word with you alone, Fenris, if you don't mind. Hawke?"

Hawke waved a hand. "Enjoy your super-secret club meeting. Anders and I will take a walk."

Fenris squeezed Anders' hand. "I'll catch up with you."

Anders smiled at him and left with Hawke. He was still watching Anders when Sebastian dropped into the pew in front of him.

"It seems you have a lot to tell me."

Fenris looked down at his hands twisting in his lap. "The details of the story are not mine to tell. But I believe Anders is well on the road to rehabilitation."

"He's certainly speaking his mind. Just two days ago you seemed ready to give up."

"Magister Faustinus, an old acquaintance of Danarius's showed up and assisted."

"And regarding your thinking that you weren't the right person to help him?"

Fenris glanced back to the stairs where Anders and Hawke had disappeared down. "I have… thought on it."

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle. "It's all right if you don't wish to tell me, Fenris. Your feelings are your own."

"I think I may have… very strong feelings for him." Fenris felt almost relieved admitting it out loud. It was true though, the way Anders looked at him, how the mage made him feel. And it wasn't just his memories of Anders, either. Though they played rather a large part. "I want to be there for him. With whatever he needs. I… think I am in love." It didn't sound as half as stupid as he thought it would, those words coming from his lips. Love was a foreign concept, romantic or platonic. But the Fog Warriors had been integral in teaching him that it was okay to have those feelings, that he wouldn't be punished for them. And on some level, Fenris knew he felt affection for Sebastian, a man he considered to be one of his very best friends. With Anders it was different, of course. He wanted to kiss him, to touch him. He wanted to hold him again and to be held by him. "Is it a weakness?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Love is never a weakness, Fenris. You were conditioned to think that. I think it's fantastic."

"You do?" Fenris sounded as confused as he felt.

Sebastian chuckled. "Of course. It's amazing that you both found one another again after years of hardship. Have you discussed this with him?"

Fenris shook his head. It was surreal for him to be discussing his feelings so frankly, especially without the extra added help of a bottle of Aggregio or similar vintage. "He seems fond of Hawke."

"Oh?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"I can't be sure if it's residual feelings of his being given to Hawke or if they're genuine. I don't… want to stand in the way of his happiness. He hasn't had much of it in his life."

"That's very noble of you. But you know, Fenris, if you don't speak to him about this, you may end up regretting it. The worst thing that could happen is that he says no, and while rejection is often hard to deal with, isn't it better than wondering about what could have been?"

Fenris considered this. He never thought about the possibility of 'what could have been' because there was only ever one path laid out before him with very little deviation or desire to stray. "I suppose."

"You deserve happiness, Fenris," Sebastian said earnestly.

There was a clamor downstairs and both Sebastian and Fenris quickly moved to the balcony. Anders was on the floor on his back, a golden candle holder next to him, melted wax splattered on the floor. Hawke was laughing and a Chantry sister was looking mortified. Fenris hurried down the steps, Sebastian following quickly.

"Are you all right?" Fenris asked, kneeling to help Anders up.

"He… he's just… clumsy," Hawke managed through his laughter.

"I am so, so sorry, serah!" the sister was saying, just short of ringing her hands. "I didn't mean-"

"What happened?" Sebastian asked, putting a gentle hand on the sister's shoulder.

"I just touched his hand and he…"

Hawke snorted. "Anders doesn't like being touched by people he doesn't know well. It's fine. Not your fault, Sister."

Fenris scowled. It was hardly funny. He pulled Anders to his feet, keeping a protective hand on the small of his back. Anders was blushing, thoroughly embarrassed and looking like a frightened cat. If not for Fenris, he might have retreated to a corner to hide.

"Are you all right?" he asked Anders again.

Anders nodded quickly.

"Sebastian I think we need to take our leave now. Thank you for the talk."

"Any time, Fenris. Do take care. Hawke."

Hawke nodded to him, still chuckling, and followed Anders and Fenris out.

"What is your issue?" Fenris snarled at him once they were out of the chantry.

"Pardon me for finding some humor in the situation. And he's all right. Maybe a bruise or two but nothing he can't heal up."

Fenris scowled. Perhaps he was overreacting. But he remembered his own aversion to touch before Anders had come into his life. And for someone Anders had never met before to touch him so brazenly, even if she was an unassuming sister of the Chantry, it spoke volumes as to how far he still needed to go with his rehabilitation.

"I'd like to speak with Anders alone. Anders, would you accompany me to my house?"

Hawke stopped laughing. "Secrets now?"

"Hardly."

Anders looked at Hawke, as if waiting for permission. "Would that… I suppose… I'll return later. To the estate. If… I'm still allowed to?"

Hawke sighed. "Yes, of course. You're always welcome. We'll have to get you your own key. I'll be at the Hanged Man until supper." He gave Fenris a look before clapping Anders on the shoulder and squeezing lightly, then headed in the direction of Lowtown.

Fenris knew Hawke well enough to fully interpret that look without asking what it meant.

_Don't hurt him._

As if Fenris could.


	14. Chapter 14

For perhaps the first time since he'd been squatting in the old mansion, Fenris felt slightly embarrassed by the deteriorated state. Not that Anders hadn't seen it before, but now that he was set on his decision, he thought perhaps he ought to have cleaned up a bit. The main suite at the top of the stairs was at least livable and had been cleaned out for the most part. Fenris gestured to one of the arm chairs and sat heavily in his own. He watched Anders arrange his robes and sit, looking nervous.

"Tell me what your plans are now that you're free," Fenris said, a bit more directly than he'd been planning.

"I… don't really have any," Anders admitted. "I feel like a weight is lifted and my head's a bit clearer. For the first time in years I don't feel… bound. It feels wrong, almost. Like I should have someone there holding my chain."

Fenris _hmm_ ed. He knew the feeling. Perhaps not in the same way Anders did, but he understood. "Hawke's a bit of mercenary. I expect he'll be up to his old jobs now and invite you along."

"He used to talk about them with Isabela or Varric."

In the few weeks following Danarius's death, Hawke had resumed his errands for Meredith and various others. More often than not he would leave Anders behind or take him on the easy ones, not wanting to involve him in any sort of combat. Fenris respected the decision. With Justice as unpredictable as he was, it was best that neither he nor Anders viewed Hawke as being in peril.

"Now there's no chance of Justice's anger being triggered, I'm sure your healing skills will be invaluable to him. To the entire group, truly," Fenris added, pleased when Anders blushed slightly at the compliment. "We could be a team once more, you and I."

"I remember that. The Provings. My memories aren't so repressed now that … Danarius," he whispered, before continuing at his normal volume, "is gone. I remember… everything, really. You helped me a lot."

Fenris looked away, a little ashamed. "I still broke my promise."

"I forgive you."

Three words, but they meant a lot. Fenris let out a shaking breath and curled in the chair, tucking his legs underneath him, leaning toward Anders. "I regret leaving you."

Anders smiled tight-lipped and mirthless, but nodded. "I understand. I wasn't myself that night. I spoke poorly. I would never put you in chains, Fenris. Ever."

"Nor I you."

Anders reached across the gap and Fenris took his hand. His markings glowed ever so faintly as they touched. Anders' skin was warm and he felt the magic pulsing just below the surface.

"I suppose it is enough for now that we're together," Anders said. "I missed it."

"I did as well," Fenris said, and kicked himself internally. _Just tell him. _If only it were that easy. "I've been thinking a lot lately especially, after everything that's happened." He brushed his thumb along the back of Anders' hand. "I think it would be… extremely difficult to live without you."__

__Anders fairly grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You won't have to anymore. I don't have anywhere to go but here. I wouldn't want to. Hawke… he's not like our former master. He never asked things of me. He treated me well."_ _

__"He wasn't acting as your master. He was acting as a friend. For all his failings, it's something he's irritatingly good at. He… takes care of his friends."_ _

__"He talks of mages a lot."_ _

__"Seeing as he is one," Fenris said, sighing. This wasn't how he'd wanted the conversation to go. Talking about Hawke, seeing a light in Anders' eyes when he was brought up, it was painful. Should he even bother? Would Anders simply rebuff him, tell him it was too late? That time had passed? He couldn't blame Anders if that was the case. "I wanted to talk about us." He cringed. It sounded like a line from the saccharine romances Anders used to read him._ _

__"What about?"_ _

__"When we were slaves, there wasn't much to be done about it. Danarius forced us together and I thought perhaps any feelings would be best kept repressed. For a while at least, and then, I admit, I was no longer able to keep them to myself."_ _

__Anders frowned, and Fenris watched as his brow furrowed, eyes on the fireplace, deep in thought. "I never dwelled on it. It was too close to how I felt in the Circle. I didn't want to relive that. Not after everything. But you helped me retain what sanity I had. I… I didn't enjoy the enslavement. But you made it bearable."_ _

__"Bearable."_ _

__"Not… not what you were looking for?" Anders asked, sounding worried._ _

__Fenris shook his head a little. "I was hoping that now we were both free perhaps we could explore the… any potential feelings between the two of us." He wished this was easier, that he could just blurt out what he truly wanted to say._ _

__Anders looked at him. "What do you mean?"_ _

__Fenris sighed and stood, pulling Anders to his feet as well. It would be best to simply show him. So Fenris leaned up, hands on Anders' shoulder, letting him step away or pull back if he wished. Tentatively, he pressed his lips to Anders', kissing him softly. The mage made a sound of surprise that caught somewhere in his throat and he wrapped his fingers around Fenris's wrists. Fenris frowned, about to step back when Anders returned the kiss. Slowly they came together, Anders dropping his hands, taking Fenris by the waist and pulling him close. Fenris slid his arms up Anders' shoulders, around his neck. He could feel Anders' chest pressed against his, felt his heart speed up with the contact. They stood, kissing for some time, and Fenris felt a wash of relief. His markings pulled not unpleasantly with the close proximity, the intimacy._ _

__"Fenris," Anders murmured against his lips._ _

__"Mm," Fenris purred, letting him end the kiss. He nuzzled Anders' cheek, then his neck before inhaling. He felt Anders' grip on him tighten, and allowed himself to be pulled flush against him._ _

__Anders tilted his head and Fenris took the invitation, kissing from his jawline down behind his ear, trailing down his neck. Anders whimpered, hips thrusting forward involuntarily. Fenris smiled against the warm skin, feeling Anders let out a breath and ruffled his hair. Hands moved from his waist around his back, fingertips trailing along his spine._ _

__"I don't wish to force you into something," Fenris said carefully, settling back. He cupped Anders' jaw, just under his ear, and leaned in to kiss him again, almost chastely. "This is your decision. And if you don't want it-"_ _

__"I want it."_ _

__Fenris smiled, pleased with the emphatic tone. He chuckled at the blush spreading over Anders' cheeks. "I… am very fond of you."_ _

__"I never thought I'd hear that honestly from someone ever again. He… Danarius used to say things like that, but it never felt good. To a point… that I pleased him. It was relief. But the feeling wasn't mutual."_ _

__"I understand." And Fenris did. There was always a contentedness in having Danarius's approval, his hands on Fenris's hair or shoulder, an affectionate look. "But I feel…"_ _

__"Love?" Anders asked._ _

__Fenris swallowed hard. It was a dangerous emotion. And difficult. Hatred was easy. Love could be devastating. "Yes."_ _

__Anders replied with a kiss, one hand snaking up into Fenris's hair. Fenris winced a little as he pulled, but returned the kiss, mouth opening, unable to keep himself from gasping as Anders took control. He stepped back as Anders pressed forward and they stumbled into bed. Fenris closed his eyes as Anders kissed him again. A firm thigh pressed between his and he thrust up against it, feeling a stirring of arousal, lyrium markings flaring to light._ _

__"Fenris."_ _

__"Hm," Fenris managed, trying not to whimper as Anders pulled away from him. "What?"_ _

__"I'm not sure I… It's been years and Danarius..."_ _

__Fenris shifted out from underneath him, legs still entangled. He kissed Anders softly before pulling away. "I understand." He had a brief flash of remembrance. Justice pinning him to the wall, taking his pleasure. No, this wasn't Justice. This was Anders. And for both their sakes, they would move slowly. At their own pace, no one else's. There was no Danarius, no Justice to force them forward. "It would be best if we decided together how quickly to move."_ _

__Anders nodded, settling down, resting his head on Fenris's shoulder. Fenris dozed, gently rubbing Anders' back. The mage's breathing evened out and they fell asleep together, their hours-long trip into the Fade finally taking its toll on their weary bodies. It wasn't until several hours later when the sky outside darkened and the moon cast the only light that Fenris started to stir again. Somewhere downstairs he heard a door slam._ _

__"Fenris!"_ _

__Fenris groggily lifted a hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Anders tightened around him, and the day flooded back to him. So much for resetting his internal clock. But Hawke, it seemed, suffered no such exhaustion as he knocked loudly on the door before shoving it open. A bright light illuminated the room and Fenris swore, throwing an arm over his eyes. Anders winced against him, groaning._ _

__"Hawke," Fenris hissed. "The light."_ _

__It dimmed. "I was worried. Have you two been here the whole time?"_ _

__Fenris removed his arm, squinting while his eyes adjusted to the light. "Some of us don't have your youthful exuberance," he said sarcastically. "We fell asleep."_ _

__Hawke looked them over, and Fenris didn't quite like being subjected to that scrutiny. He sat up, pulling Anders with him, and kissed him quite thoroughly. Anders let out a surprised squeak and returned it, gripping the back of Fenris's tunic before Fenris pulled back._ _

__"Good morning. Or more appropriately, evening," Fenris muttered against his lips._ _

__"Thank you," Anders breathed, stealing another quick kiss._ _

__Fenris smirked before sliding out of bed. "You were looking for me, Hawke?" He glanced at him, and was almost pleased to see the jealousy on his face. Of course Hawke would have developed _some_ feelings for Anders. It seemed their animosity was going to come to a head._ _

__"I wanted to talk to you."_ _

__"Of course," Fenris said. "Did you want to sit?"_ _

__Hawke clenched a fist before relaxing. "No. Downstairs."_ _

__Before either Fenris or Anders could respond, Hawke turned and left, taking the light with him. Fenris sighed and navigated around the chairs, his elven eyes seeing easily in the dark room. He knelt and lit a fire. Anders was standing, looking anxious when he turned to him._ _

__"It's fine," Fenris assured him. "I'll see what Hawke wants and then we can search the pantry for supper."_ _

__Anders nodded, chewing on his lower lip as he lowered his eyes. Fenris quickly stepped forward, kissed him, grinning when Anders gasped in surprise._ _

__"Just a few minutes," Fenris promised, reaching up, brushing a few golden strands off his forehead. He kissed him again quickly before following after Hawke._ _

__He found him in the entryway, arms crossed and leaning against the wall._ _

__"So the second he's free of Justice, you decide to take advantage?"_ _

__Fenris scowled. "I do not 'take advantage', Hawke. I understand better than anyone what he's been through."_ _

__"And because of that, what? You think he's with you out of his own free will? He's still got a slave mentality. He probably only kissed you because-"_ _

__"Do not finish that sentence unless you want your tongue removed." It was an idle threat. Fenris would never do any permanent bodily harm to Hawke. But he didn't like what Hawke was implying. "I am not, nor have ever been his master and I most certainly am not forcing him into anything he doesn't wish to do. If you ever suggest that again…" He let the statement hang in the air._ _

__Hawke stared stonily at him, and when Fenris didn't back down, Hawke looked away, sighing. "You're right. I know you wouldn't… and it's good for him, I guess. To make his own decisions. If this is what he wants…"_ _

__Fenris narrowed his eyes. "You're jealous."_ _

__Hawke scowled. "No. I just don't want either of my friends getting hurt. You both have wounds that the Maker knows aren't healed easily."_ _

__"Do you trust me, Hawke?"_ _

__"I- what?"_ _

__"Do you trust me?" Fenris repeated._ _

__"With my life," Hawke confirmed. "I thought that was obvious."_ _

__"Then trust me in this. It's taken me a long time to come to terms, but I know that what I feel for him is genuine. I will not hurt him, Hawke. I would sooner throw myself back to the magisters."_ _

__Hawke pursed his lips, looking at him before he nodded. "I know."_ _

__"And should he decide this isn't what he wants, I will not stop him. His happiness is… the most important thing in the world to me."_ _

__"Maker," Hawke breathed. "Seriously, Fenris?"_ _

__Fenris shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to bare his heart to Sebastian, who always spoke so frankly about his own love for the Maker and never hid his emotions. It was another to admit his feelings to Anders, the man for whom he felt so strongly. It was downright awkward to say any of this to Hawke. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks and had never before been so thankful for his olive-skinned complexion that hid the blush. "Yes."_ _

__"Well." Hawke cleared his throat. "Well then fine. That's good enough then. Tell him… tell him he can stay at the estate still. Just maybe not tonight. I think I'd rather be alone."_ _

__Fenris nodded. "As you wish, Hawke. I had anticipated asking him to stay with me."_ _

__"You might want to clean the place up," Hawke said, toeing a femur back to the pile of old bones by the front door._ _

__Fenris scowled. "I'm a warrior, not a housekeeper."_ _

__Hawke smiled at that, but it was gone quickly. "Just take care of him, all right?"_ _

__"Of course."_ _

__Hawke nodded resolutely, then left without another word. Fenris locked the door for the first time since he took up residence there, pleased that it still worked. If he was going to continue to stay in the mansion with Anders, he would need to clean things up. He wondered if the deed was amongst Danarius's papers. Though the mansion didn't truly belong to him, if Danarius killed the merchant owner, the building was still Hawke's. Perhaps, he thought wryly, he could pay the man rent. Then everything would be legitimate._ _

__"What did Hawke want?" Anders asked when Fenris stepped inside._ _

__"He was concerned," Fenris said, crossing the room. "He wanted to make sure this was your choice."_ _

__Anders smiled slightly. "He's a good friend."_ _

__"That he is," Fenris said, and kissed him, not wanting to talk about Hawke anymore._ _

__They settled together on the threadbare couch, Fenris's hunger momentarily forgotten as he lost himself in Anders' kisses. Though he desired more, he didn't push. Anders would indicate when he was ready._ _

__"He's requested you stay here just for the night. I can straighten a guest room or you're welcome to share my bed once again."_ _

__"With you," Anders said at once._ _

__Fenris smiled. "Forever?"_ _

__Anders hugged him tightly. "Yes."_ _

__Fenris gently nuzzled his cheek. "There's one more thing."_ _

__"What is it?" Anders asked, frowning as Fenris stepped away._ _

__Fenris rifled through a small coin purse and pulled out the golden earrings he'd taken from Anders. "The last of your chains." He deposited them into Anders' hand._ _

__Anders looked down at the gold in his hand, running his finger over them almost reverently. With a determined nod, he walked to the fireplace and let them tumble from his palm. Fenris moved beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist, leaning against him. Anders hesitated, but turned into his embrace. Nothing else needed to be said as they watched the earrings melt, both of them finally free._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading! There's one more arc from Hawke's POV that'll be a bit shorter than the first two. I had a bit of trouble trying to decide how to end it and this story really is dedicated to my girlfriend Vee who's super, super supportive and helped me out and kicked my ass with her criticism to make the story better.
> 
> Hopefully the end doesn't disappoint. Hoping to get the last arc up in its entirety by the end of this weekend!
> 
> Thanks again, guys <3 ^_^


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